


Home Is The Hunter

by Neneithel



Series: The Winchester Pact [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:34:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 80
Words: 102,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27577925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neneithel/pseuds/Neneithel
Summary: Michael has unaccountably set Dean free and he is home, but he doesn't feel like himself.
Relationships: Castiel/Jules (Supernatural)
Series: The Winchester Pact [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007640





	1. Chapter 1

It was late when they got home from Sioux Falls, so late that it was early and Dean barely remembered any of the journey home. The route was familiar and he was pretty much on autopilot every time and he told himself it was that and his physical fatigue, but he knew it wasn't.

He also knew he could have made it home faster. There was a reason why he preferred to be on the road with Sam and not in the bunker, with Sam's hunters and with Cas.

Not that it was easy or comfortable with Sam. He could see how his long absence had worn down his brother's strength and Sam was literally begging him to open up about all that had happened. He had tried, out on the road, in the car that had often been the only safe space they had, but he was ashamed and he was afraid and no matter how much he reminded himself that Sam was, if anything, stronger than he was, the urge to protect him and the dread of disappointing him fielded far more powerful arguments. So, he had said a little; enough to trouble Sam, but not enough to make Sam feel he was confiding in him.

He hadn't really spoken to Cas since his return. The scar on his arm, bringing with it the promise of a way to hurt Michael, had seemed like a priority to everyone. 

Truth be told, he had dreaded the five hour journey to Sioux Falls with Cas and had been relieved when Jules had needed Cas to stay behind. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to Cas. They needed to talk as a matter of urgency. It was just that he knew that, when they did, he would say all the wrong things, though there was no good or easy way to say, "I never want you or any angel poking around in my head again."

It wasn't true ... Well, okay, it was true, for now, but he didn't want it to be true. He wanted to overcome it. He wanted to do something about it. He wanted to tell himself that it was Michael's revulsion, not his, that flooded his mind whenever he thought of their previous relationship and the mental link they had established. He wanted to believe it was something he could shake off in time, if they had any time.

Already, he had overcome it enough to allow Cas to read his mind. The link Michael had broken had not spontaneously reopened and part of him was glad of that and part of him was disappointed and all of him felt guilty. Michael had changed him, but real friendships were not supposed to change like that and maybe the angel would not understand. Even he did not understand.

He stopped outside the bunker and got out of the car. Sam got out too. "What is it?" he said, giving him a look as if he were a porcelain doll in a breaker's yard.

"It's nothing." said Dean, "I just need a breath of air."

Sam nodded.

Honesty would have been fine. He could tell Sam, who probably already knew, that he'd rather just get out on the road again with him and leave all the complications locked safely in the bunker. Either that, or lock himself away in his room and keep them all at a safe distance.

From time to time, not often, but not so rarely, Dean had felt a need he did not express or allude to. He was the big brother. His only purpose was to be strong for Sam. So when he felt a need to just spill his guts to Sam and tell him every thought in his head, every fear in his heart, he kept his mouth shut and he pretended the need did not exist.

"You told Sarah I'm back, right?" he said.

"Yeah, less than an hour after we got you home." said Sam, "She'll call soon, or visit, I'm sure, but I think she's wary of rushing you."

"I'm glad you had her while I was gone."

"Without her, we'd never have made it." said Sam.

"I'll call her, tomorrow." said Dean.

"Yeah, good idea."

"It's ten after three. Everyone'll be asleep. Except Cas, who doesn't sleep. But he'll be with Jules?" He looked at Sam, hoping for confirmation.

"Yeah, they haven't been apart much, recently."

"Good! So they finally got it together?"

"Dean ... "

"They didn't? I've been away weeks and he still hasn't managed to get laid?" said Dean.

"Just don't, okay? Their relationship has advanced dramatically, but they're not quite there yet and the last thing they need is you making them feel bad about it. Cas didn't cope well with your absence."

"But you did?" said Dean, well aware that it was not the case.

"I'm not saying I wasn't fifteen flavours of freak, but he was worse. We almost lost him, Dean. When he thought you were dead, he couldn't handle it."

"He thought I was dead?"

"Angel radio said you were." said Sam.

"And he believed those douches?"

"Yes. He's an angel."

"He's an idiot." said Dean, "So what happened?"

"He trashed his car. Drove it into a tree. It's over and done with now. Just bear in mind that he's been through a lot. Not as much as you've been through, but more than he could take. Just be nice."

"I will. Of course I will." said Dean. Maybe now was not the time for the urgent talk. "Did you think I was dead?"

"What?" said Sam. He grinned. "No! I knew you'd turn up."

Dean smiled. He still lied the same now as he had when they were kids. "Sure, you knew."

"Of course I knew. Look, I'll put the Impala away, you go in and get us some coffee."

Dean thought about insisting on putting his own car away, but Sam seemed to need to be useful, so he tossed him the keys. "Are you sure Cas and Jules are okay?"

"Some nights, their kisses make the lights flicker." said Sam, "But don't say anything. I don't think they know."


	2. Chapter 2

In the kitchen, Dean found Cas washing dishes. "Jack has a cold." said Cas, "I made him some tomato rice soup."

"Is he okay?" said Dean.

"I think so. Humanity, you know. It can be hard to get used to. I told him to sleep as much as he can."

"Sam's putting the car away." said Dean.

"Oh." said Cas.

"So I came to make coffee. You want one?"

"Thanks." said Cas.

"I hear things are good between you and Jules."

"Better than ever." said Cas, "And Sam and I have a mind link thing now."

"Oh. That's good." said Dean. He felt that sudden revulsion again and suppressed a shudder. "Look, Michael killed the mind link, I didn't."

"I know. I found the message you left for me."

"Right. Good." He knew he had to say something, but knowing what to say was hard. "The thing is, Cas, I don't wanna reopen it just now. I will one day, but right now ... "

"Right now, the last thing you want is an angel in your head." said Cas.

"Yeah. Cas, our relationship hasn't changed. You're still my brother. This isn't about you in any way. It's me and my screwed up head."

"Dean, the sanctity and sovereignty of your mind were violated, your essential being was invaded and it was done by an angel."

"Archangel." said Dean.

"Yes, but it doesn't make a difference, does it? I felt you flinch when I searched your memories."

"His memories. And I flinched at the memory of the wound." said Dean, starting to prepare the coffee.

"You flinched at celestial contact." said Cas, "And I understand. I felt the same way after Lucifer and I'm an angel, accustomed to having my will dominated by that of an archangel. I was designed for servitude, you were not."

"It's not how I want things to be." he said, "I just need time to overcome this."

"Yes." said Cas.

"And in the meantime, I need you to know that if I seem shut down or repelled or resentful or ... "

"Disgusted, fearful, angry ... "

"It's not me. It's not what I feel. It's not what I want to feel."

"Understood. And if you need me to go to the farm for a while, it's not a problem." said Cas.

"No. I get it if you want to and if you wanna take Jules and Jack and just not be around me for a while, that's fine." said Dean, "But I'd rather have you around, even if I seem not to want that, if you can. But Sam says you've had a rough time and I ... "

"Sam's wrong. I'm fine." said Cas.

"He wasn't criticising you."

"I'm fine!" said Cas again.

"So, we stick together, okay?"

"Okay."

Dean searched a pocket and dropped a credit card on the table. "And look, you should take this credit card and max it out at a nice hotel, not some drab motel. Get the honeymoon suite for a weekend and you and Jules can ... "

"No."

"Sam said ... "

"I don't care what Sam said. It's not about location." said Cas.

"Then what is the problem?"

"There is no problem." said Cas, "Please be quiet."

"Sorry." said Dean, remembering that Sam had advised against bringing the subject up at all. He tried to repair the damage. "I just wanted ... "

"I know and I appreciate your concern, but it's a private issue, between Jules and me."

"Of course." He put the credit card away. "By the way, I know you're pissed at me. I know I broke my promise. I invited Michael in."

Cas shook his head. "If you hadn't, Jack would be dead. Sam would be dead. I have no right or reason to be pissed."

Dean noticed that he did not say he wasn't. 

Any further discussion of anything felt dangerous and whether it was the residual disgust of the archangel for a friendship between angels and humanity or his own feelings about celestials, he could barely look at his best friend.

He was pouring the coffee when Sam joined them. "Everything okay here, tonight, Cas?" said Sam.

"Jack's not well. Just a cold, he thinks. I gave him some soup and sent him to bed."

"No news on Nick?" said Sam, taking his coffee with a nod of thanks.

"None." said Cas.

Dean didn't miss the way Sam looked from him to Cas and back, worried by whatever he saw in their body language. "I'm gonna call Sarah tomorrow." he said, "Well, later today."

"She'll be glad to hear from you." said Cas, "She missed you terribly."

"We all did." said Sam, "It's good to have you back."

"It's good to be back." said Dean, wishing he could sound more convincing, "Where's Jules?"

"Out." said Cas, "But she'll be back in an hour or so."

"Is that why you're waiting up like this?" said Dean.

"Yes." said Cas.

"Told you." said Sam, "Jules and Cas are fine."

Dean looked at Cas, wondering if he would say anything about Dean's attempt to interfere. He didn't. "It's good." said Dean, "I'm glad you two have each other."

"We're betrothed." said Cas.

"What the hell does that mean?" said Dean.

"It's a somewhat archaic term indicating ... "

"Yes, Cas, I know what it means, but what does it mean?"

Cas looked at Sam, confusion in his eyes.

"It means they're together, permanently." said Sam, "And it means that Jules wears a ring, on her finger most of the time, but on a chain around her neck when Rowena is around."

"I don't get it." said Dean.

"Rowena is a little too interested in my private life," said Cas, "You know the type. No sense of boundaries. Obviously, I don't want her to know anything about Jules."

"Oh. Okay."

"In fact, it's generally best if nobody outside the family knows more about Jules and me than they absolutely have to. Heaven, so far as I know, has no idea that I have a human lover."

"Technically, for her to be a lover ... " Dean began.

"They're betrothed." said Sam.

"I know you don't understand," said Cas, "But she is my lover."

"I'm sorry." said Dean, "A lot has changed. Mostly me, I suspect." 

He saw Sam's look of doubt and concern. Then Sam said, "Thanks for the honesty."

"I'm trying." said Dean, "Now, fill me in on everything that's been happening."

Sam looked at him intently for a moment, as if trying to judge how much more he might be induced to say, then they began to tell stories and he let their words wash over him while Michael's words echoed in his mind, "This 'friendship' of yours makes me sick. Your part in his life, your connection to his mind, defile an angel of the Lord. He was intended as your shepherd, not your brother. It's never good when the shepherd gets over-friendly with the sheep."


	3. Chapter 3

On balance, Sam reflected, things looked pretty good. They even had a prospect of being able to fight Michael and consigning that monster to the Empty was high on Sam's list. 

Having Dean back was a big win and he was not a gibbering wreck, but he also wasn't himself and he wasn't in the mood to discuss it. It felt like he had gone back years and after all the progress he had made with Sarah, seeing his guarded expression and haunted eyes was painful.

It was almost worse to see how he was with Cas, to watch human and angel, cautiously exchanging brief, uninformative sentences and to feel the tension in the room. He could also feel how much they both wanted things to be back the way they had been. 

With Michael still out there, they all needed to work together and to support each other. With Dean wounded in ways Sam could not perceive or fully comprehend, a return to the mind link could be useful, but Dean seemed uncomfortable just being in the same room as Cas.

Sam and Cas were doing their best, catching him up on all that had happened, but Dean's attention was elsewhere. Sam had seen him zone out like that before and it was never a good thing. Normally, he would have tried to make him focus or to get him to talk a little, but the few things Dean had said since his return had not encouraged Sam to push too hard. Dean had come through the possession with his identity and sanity apparently intact, few others could have survived so well, but there was a brittleness to the remnants of his strength. 

Clearly, Cas saw it too. He said nothing about his own struggles of the past few weeks and played down anything that could cause Dean anxiety or guilt. He was watchful, keeping a careful eye on Dean's responses, neutral and muted as they were, but made little attempt to engage him in any real talk.

Sam also knew that Dean was being equally guarded with both of them and for the same reason. Not only was he protecting himself, he was trying to avoid the faultlines in their damaged psyches. He didn't ask about Cas's car and he spoke of inconsequentials to Sam, but he had said he would call Sarah and Sam knew that he would expect her to want to talk about the deep and painful stuff.

The meaningless chatter fell silent when Jules came into the kitchen. "Another meeting of the Insomniacs' Club?" she said.

"I don't need sleep." said Cas.

She smiled at him. "No, I know, Cas." She looked at Dean, "Sounds like Sioux Falls was a success."

"Promising." he said, "There is a weapon that can wound Michael and we know who has it, but she might not want to share."

"We may not give her a choice." said Jules, "Killing Michael is a little bit more important than getting a permission slip."

"I like the way she thinks." said Dean to Cas.

"So do I." said Cas and the glance that passed between him and Jules was filled with meaning.

"Good." she said, "I have a few good ideas to discuss with you."

"You know how I value your ideas and innovations." said Cas, going over to her, "Your imagination astounds me."

"You inspire me." she said.

"Are you two done flirting?" said Dean.

"I hope not." said Cas.

Jules smiled. "Flirting?" she said, "Have you two finished with my angel? Because I need sleep, even if none of you do."

"Sam and Dean do." said Cas, "They are both in serious need of sleep."

"I'm fine." said Dean, "I've spent a lot of time asleep recently."

Sam looked him in the eye, remembering how differently he had explained it in the car. Dean had the grace to look embarrassed.

"But I should probably turn in for the night anyway." Dean continued.

"I think we all should." said Sam.

Cas nodded. "We're heading for bed, then. Dean, don't worry. We know this isn't easy."

"It should be." said Dean, "Should be the easiest thing in the world."

"No. It was never going to be. You need time." said Cas. He turned to Jules and said, "We should ... "

"10-4." she said.

"I'm not sure I know what that means." he said, before she led him away.

"He's right, you know." said Sam, "Nobody is expecting you to just bounce back right away. Well, nobody except you."

"He's the one I always have trouble with." said Dean.

"Yeah, well, he's being kind of a dick. Maybe he doesn't understand that you're human and you're allowed to be. Dean doesn't get it, but Cas and me? We do."

"I'm okay." said Dean. 

"No, you're not."

"No, I'm not, but I will be. The hard part is over. Michael's gone. I just need to pull myself together." He looked exhausted and Sam knew that he was unlikely to take in anything said to him, however much he needed to hear it.

"Get some rest." he said, "Do you want me to call you for breakfast?"

"I'm out of the habit of eating." said Dean.

"Yes, but you need to. If you'd rather eat alone, I can bring something to your room."

Dean raised a hand. "Sam, stop, okay?"

"I just ... "

"I know, but please, stop. I plan to sleep late. I don't need room service. I don't need to be looked after. I just wanna get back to normal."

"Pretend nothing ever happened?"

"Sounds good."

"You know Sarah's not gonna go for that."

"I know I screwed up. I know this is all my fault and I know you want to help. I know." He ran his hand through his hair. "I'll be fine, Sammy. I always am."

"You can't just ... "

"Yeah, actually, I can." said Dean and he left the room.

Sam washed the coffee cups. He wished he knew whether he should argue with Dean or just back off and let him fight his own way through. For now, Dean felt smothered and that wasn't likely to help. There had been some issue before he had joined Dean and Cas in the kitchen, he knew, but neither seemed to want him to know about it.

There was nothing he could do about any of it until the morning. He decided to go to bed, try to get some sleep and put his faith in Sarah, who had not failed him yet.


	4. Chapter 4

Alone with Jules, Cas tried to forget his concerns about Dean. Her kisses were, as always, exhilarating and he tried to let them block out all other thoughts. She removed his tie and undid his shirt, slipping her hand inside it to stroke his chest. He knew he had failed to master his thoughts when she said, "You're still worried about him, aren't you?"

"Sorry." he said.

"This is what I get for falling in love with a Winchester." she said, "So, what do you want? Distraction or discussion?"

He was fairly sure that any other woman would have been hurt, annoyed and resentful. Jules never got jealous of his friendship with Dean or Sam. She never said unkind things about them or issued any kind of ultimatum.

"We knew Dean was unlikely to return unchanged." he said, "And there's nothing I can do about it tonight."

"But you need to talk about it anyway, don't you?" she said.

"I went through it with Lucifer and so did Sam and we both still have the mental scars."

"I'm familiar with them." she said.

"For Dean, it's worse. I was sharing my vessel. I could keep a little separate from Lucifer. Sam had trapped Lucifer in the cage and at least he could feel good about that. Dean never wanted to be anyone's vessel. From the first time he knew he was Michael's perfect vessel, he hated the idea and his feelings about it grew stronger over time. Saying yes to that ... Giving consent to Michael to take his body went against everything he was. It was, to him, an abject surrender, a humiliation and I have seen him refuse it when he and Sam were both being tortured and both close to death. Heaven never broke him. He resisted with everything he had."

"So what was different, this time?"

"The stakes. Jack, Sam, the world, all depending on him and the only way he could see to save all three was to do the one thing he would do anything to avoid. If I'd just zapped him unconscious ... "

"If you're going into a blame loop, I may have to sleep fully clothed tonight." she said.

He hastily reordered his thoughts. "No, I'm not." he said, "But the deal he made with Michael, it should have been binding. Consent matters to angels and archangels and the moment Michael broke his word, he should have been flung out of that body like ... " His powers of simile failed him. "He should have been unable to hold the vessel. I don't know how, but Michael overcame the need for consent. Michael broke every rule we have. The damage he did to Dean is incalculable."

"Dean is walking and talking. I've seen angelic vessels come out of it far worse." said Jules.

"Me too, but that's because Dean is stronger than most angels. His mental strength is incredible. Only Sam is stronger. Maybe they are equal. All I know is, he barely looks me in the eye. He doesn't want the mind link back. He doesn't want me around."

"That's not how it seemed to me. Even now, when he has a good excuse to be a little selfish, he still cares about you."

"Yes, he does. He even told me, he doesn't want to feel the way he does, but I'm an angel and it takes everything he has to be in the same room. I suggested I should go to the farm, but he wants to fight this."

"That's good, isn't it?" she said.

"It's a miracle. After everything my kind did to him, he still wants my friendship."

"Try to remember, Cas, you did nothing to him."

"Oh, I did plenty, just not this recent stuff." he said, "I tried to kill him."

"By choice? By your own free will?"

"I had no will at the time."

"Why isn't he dead?" she said.

"I broke the control they had over me."

"And you don't think that means a thing, do you?" she said, "One day, we are fixing those self-esteem issues of yours."

"Angels don't really have self-esteem issues ... or self-esteem."

"You have no idea of the level to which I'm getting that." she said, "For now, the important thing to remember is that his feelings around angels are not aimed at you, caused by you or stoked by you."

"But they do, currently, include me. I see the disgust in his eyes, the distrust."

"We've all been screwed up by angels and archangels. Until I met you and Jack, I thought all celestials were monsters. I get why Dean's angry. I get why he's afraid and disgusted and why having an angel near him triggers all kinds of feelings he can't help."

"So do I." said Cas, "I understand it all. He has every right to feel as he does. He has every reason never to trust me again. After all, I could have prevented the whole thing."

She waved one finger in front of him. "One more," she said, "And I sleep in combat fatigues."

"Withholding your nakedness from me is manipulative and ... "

"And effective." she said, "Repeat after me, 'Not everything is my fault.'"

"But some things are." he said, hastily adding, "That's not a third one, that's a continuation of the second."

She smiled. "I don't ask miracles, Cas. I just want you to try not to gather all this guilt. If you won't try for your own sake, do it for Dean, because he feels like crap right now. He knows what this is doing to you and he's trying to fight it, as you said, so don't get wrapped up in guilt for which he will only blame himself."

She was right and he knew it. There was little he could do to ameliorate the situation, but there were many ways in which he could make it a lot worse and the best of those was to make it all about himself and ladle more unneeded shame and remorse onto Dean's already brimming plate.

"What can I do about all this?" he said.

"Tonight? Nothing. Tomorrow, you can talk to him, listen to him and let him find a way through this. We all know angel stuff is never easy. It'll take time. Giving him that time and bearing, for now, the reactions he can't help, is the best thing you can do." She kissed him tenderly.

He smiled. "Your wisdom is almost my favourite thing about you and given how much I love everything else about you, that's saying something."

"Are you ready for the distraction now?" she said.

"Yes, but then, you must sleep."

"I may need your help for that." she said, "I don't want to dream tonight."

He understood that. Her last few nights had been disturbed by flashbacks and nightmares and he didn't blame her at all for wanting to be free of all that for a night. "No problem." he said.

"And in return, the dress code remains Garden of Eden." she said. She clearly saw his unease, because she said, "You just have to lose the coat."


	5. Chapter 5

Shortly after 5 am, Dean accepted that he was not going to get any sleep. His half-hearted attempts to fall asleep had come to nothing. He was home, but his home no longer felt like home. He was in his room, but it seemed strange and alien and unwelcoming. He had survived Michael's possession, but it had changed him and he didn't know how much or how to change back.

He turned on the light and looked for something to occupy his thoughts. It was too early to call Sarah. He hoped she was sleeping soundly.

She had always said any time, day or night. Maybe it was time to test that. She answered almost immediately. "Dean?" she said.

"Sorry to call you so early." he said, "It's completely unfair."

"Oh, Dean, it's so good to hear your voice." She didn't ask how he was. He knew why. An experienced trauma counsellor, she was allowing him to choose whether to talk about that. It made him uneasy to know how well she already understood how damaged he was by his experiences.

He decided to keep things brief. There was one thing he wanted from her. "I need an honest answer." he said.

"That's all you'll ever get from me." she said.

"I know, but this time, there could be a temptation to lie, to be kind. I don't need lies and false hope. I need to know what you really think. I need the answer to one question, yes or no."

"I think I already know what the question is." she said, "And if I'm right, the answer is yes, you can get back from this."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. It won't be easy and it won't be fast, but you're a natural born survivor and you're already overcoming the effects of your ordeal. I know it feels overwhelming, but you can do this."

Her words held an odd power over him. He had not realised until she spoke how much he had needed to hear them. He wanted to lie on the bed and sob; whether from relief or despair, he didn't know. Not knowing how he was feeling was one of the most worrying things.

"Thanks." he said, knowing she would hear his voice quake a little.

"Dean," she said, "You don't sound like you believe me."

"I want to." he said.

"That's a good start. If you need to come to the farm for a few days again ... "

"No." he said, "Thanks, but Michael ... and there's Cas and Sam and ... But mostly Cas. I should warn you, he could need your support a lot. And he needs me here and he needs me to get over this ... "

"This what?" she said, when the length of the pause made it clear he wouldn't complete the thought.

He hated the fact that even mentioning Cas filled him with revulsion and that revulsion felt like it came directly from Michael's twisted, power-crazed mind. Cas was his friend, but Michael had hated that. Cas was his brother and Michael had made him ashamed of those feelings.

Sarah didn't press him for an answer. She waited while he struggled through the shame and anger and the self-loathing he felt for giving in to both. 

"I'm not who I was." he said at last. She didn't speak, so he went on, "He corrupted me. He changed me. Michael did more damage than the mark of Cain. I became a literal demon and I didn't feel so debased and defiled. There's a darkness in me I can't shake off."

"A darkness that hurts Castiel?" she said.

"The things in my head ... I hate Cas. I hate angels."

"You don't hate him." said Sarah.

"Something in me does. When I got home, I should have hugged him. I even hugged Jack and he's a celestial. Cas is somehow worse to the sickness in my head. Michael was sickened by our friendship and now I am too." Tears blurred his vision. "Cas doesn't deserve this." he said.

"That sounds more like love than hate." she said.

"I do love him. You know I do. I know I do. But then, when he's in the same room ... I can't even describe what I feel. I just want to get away from him. Every instinct tells me to put as much distance between us as possible."

"But you're not. You're choosing to stay there."

"Because I have to fix this. I have to get over it. I owe it to him."

"And to yourself." she said.

"I don't matter." he said, automatically, "Forget I said that." he said quickly, "Habit."

"It's a habit I thought we'd begun to challenge." she said.

"I'm sorry." he said, "Michael undid all the good we did. I won't lie to you, Sarah. I'm a mess."

"If he'd undid all we did, you'd lie to me without a second thought. He had weeks to wreak havoc in you, but you've been Dean Winchester for years and you will win. What have you said to Cas?"

"I told him the truth, which was probably wrong." he said, "Cruel."

"It won't have been easy to hear, but you were right to tell him. I think he can understand. He can help you."

"Maybe not." he said, "And under the circumstances, asking him to feels unreasonable. I just wanna be honest with him. I don't wanna lie. I don't expect him to understand. I don't understand."

"I do." she said, "I don't want you blaming yourself for this or thinking it's something you allowed to happen. Nothing that Michael did, to you or anyone else, is your fault. You were a victim."

"And now he's gone, I should stop being one." said Dean, "And I should get back to my life and things should be as they were."

"If anyone else had been through that, you would give them time to heal and recover." she said.

"I'm struggling to see how I can heal from this. I've lost who I was. I've lost the most important friendship I ever had."

"No, you haven't."

"Things were going so well. We had the link. We were talking. I know he sees me back away. I know he hates it."

"Of course he hates it. Your pain will always be painful to him."

"Then there's Sam." he said.

"What about Sam?"

"How bad was it while I was gone?" he said.

"It was a rough time, for all of us."

"Sam said we almost lost Cas."

"Yes, I wouldn't call that an exaggeration."

"How was Sam?"

"Sam was great, holding them all together, always insisting on hope, even when he was afraid you were lost. It was hard for him. Like I said, rough for all of us." There was a pause and then she said, "I knew caring about hunters carried the risk of loss, but I was unprepared for how much losing you like that would hurt. It was like Carl all over again."

The sorrow in her voice touched his heart, but knowing that she cared so much also felt like one of her warm hugs. "I'm sorry." he said, "I know I hurt a lot of people."

"No. Michael hurt us. You saved Sam and Jack. Now, what were you going to say about Sam?"

Dean found himself talking without thinking, rambling on because he was tired and unhappy and desperate to fix the mess he had made. That mess had started a long time ago. "He never wanted this life. I took him from California, bullied him into it, really. He lost Jess. He lost everything. Ended up with me. That seem fair to you?"

"Dean ... "

"Lucifer, Gadreel, Kevin, Charlie, Eileen ... The stuff I put him through. The stuff I did to that kid! I told myself I was protecting him. Great job I did of that. And now ... "

"Now?" she said.

"It's dumb. It's selfish. It's unfair. I want him to ... Sarah, I never deserved him as a brother."

"What is it you want?" she said.

"Even I can see he's exhausted."

"Dean, please, what were you going to say?" said Sarah.

"I want my brother. I want Sam and only Sam. I wanna get in the Impala with him and just run."

"From what?"

"From everything. But I can't, because people need me. People are relying on me and I have to fix the thing with Cas and Sam cannot take any more weight on his shoulders."

"Maybe you should talk to him as honestly as you talked to Cas." she said.

"I have no right to ask Sam for anything after what I did."

"I think you may find that Sam needs you to ask for something ... anything, because he needs some way to help you." she said.

"I just want things back to normal." he said.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam ate a simple, solitary breakfast and then waited in the kitchen, hoping Dean might soon be there. He would have liked to take something to Dean in his room, but Dean had been very clear about not wanting that. He knew he would need to be patient, but patience was difficult when he knew that his brother was once more going through Hell alone.

Jack appeared first. Sam stood. "Hey, Jack. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine." said Jack, reliably Winchester in his response.

"Cas said you weren't feeling so good." said Sam, "Sit down. I'll get you some breakfast."

"I'm feeling better today. I think maybe it was a twenty-four hour thing." said Jack, "Castiel made me tomato rice soup."

"Really?" said Sam, "Dean used to make that for me when I was a ... " He stopped himself just in time. Jack was not a kid. "When I got sick." he said.

"Where is Dean?" said Jack.

"Still sleeping, I hope." said Sam, "Rest is good. You want some eggs?"

"Yeah, great, thanks."

Cas came in. "Is Dean up yet?" he said.

"No. Not yet. Jules?"

"Ghoul thing, Fort Riley. She's meeting her team there."

Her team. Cas often hunted with them, but didn't see himself as a member. His attention turned to Jack. "Are you feeling any better?" he asked.

"I'm good." said Jack, "Whatever it was, it's gone."

"That's good." said Cas, relief evident in his voice and expression.

"Thanks for the soup. I think that's what fixed it."

Cas smiled. "Anytime." Sam could see how much he enjoyed playing a fatherly role. He saw anything he could do for Jack as a privilege. 

"Would you like some breakfast?" said Sam.

"No." said Cas, "I don't need anything, thanks." He watched the door for a while as Sam prepared Jack's meal, then he said, "Maybe I shouldn't be here. Too many people, too soon and one an angel."

"Cas ... " Sam began.

"I told you, I'm fine with it. Of course he wants me to keep my distance. Of course he does."

"He said he doesn't want you to." said Sam, giving Jack his food.

"And also that he does."

"Thanks." said Jack, not taking his eyes off Cas.

"He can't help what he feels, after what happened to him, but he is fighting it and we can't help him fight it if you stay out of his way." said Sam.

"I should check on my car anyway." said Cas.

"Check on your car?"

"She may need oil." said Cas. He left the room.

Sam sighed. "Things will never get back to normal if we carry on like this."

"I think he's afraid." said Jack.

"Yeah, I know."

"And I am too. If Dean hates angels now, what about nephilim?"

"Dean doesn't hate angels ... Well, no more than usual." said Sam, "And Dean will never hate you or Cas. Just think of him as surviving a fight he thinks he lost. He's pretty beat up, but he'll get better. It's just that, for now, he feels like he was defeated."

"He beat Michael enough to get free."

"Other factors caused Michael to leave."

"But Dean was part of it. Dean resisted Michael."

"Yes, he did. To us, he's superhuman. To himself, fatally flawed,"

"Maybe I should take him some food." said Jack.

"No. He said he doesn't want any taken to him." said Sam.

Jack gave up. He ate for a while and then looked up at Sam and said, "You look tired. Did you even get any sleep?"

"Yeah. I'm okay." said Sam.

"The Winchester chorus!" said Dean, coming into the kitchen, pulling his jacket on.

"What can I get you?" said Sam.

"Nothing. I'm going out for a few hours. Sarah has an intermittent fault on her electrics. I said I'd look into giving her some wiring and stuff from here. Our bulbs can last centuries. I just need to look her system over."

"You need a hand?" said Sam.

Dean gave him an odd look, his eyes guarded and uninformative. "Nah, you stay here. I'll be back for lunch." He looked at Jack. "You look pale, kid."

"I'm fine." said Jack.

"Yeah, sure you are. We'll all fine. We're all okay. That's what the Pact says, right? Is Cas ... "

"Garage." said Sam.

"Okay. Right. Good. I'll see him on my way out, then. Okay."

When he'd gone, Jack said, "Going to Sarah is good, right?"

"Yeah, that's good." said Sam.

"What does he mean about the Pact?"

"He means, 'Don't ask, don't tell.'"

"What does that mean?" said Jack.

"It means he's not ready to talk. It means he's planning to try handling this alone. It means I'm a crappy brother."

"No!" said Jack with unexpected force, "Nothing Dean has ever said or would ever say means that!" He coughed.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Fine. Just need a drink." said Jack. Sam poured out some orange juice and gave it to him. Jack nodded his thanks and took a long drink before saying, "I'm fine. I promise."

"Yeah. That's what the Pact says." said Sam, "I might just ... " He gestured to the doorway and then went through it. 

When he got to the library, his mother looked up from a book. "Sam! Is Dean with you?"

"Dean's heading to Ionia." he said.

"How did he seem to you?" she asked.

"He seemed fine." he said, hating himself for the lie.

"Oh. Good. I thought about going to his room, but it would seem like checking up on him and he looks so wary whenever we show concern."

"If there's one thing Dean hates, it's concern." said Sam, "He's always so afraid of anyone caring about him. Speaking of concern, I'd appreciate it if you kept an eye on Jack. He says he's fine and I'm sure he is, but you know how fast and how quietly he can go from fine to not fine and I'd feel a lot better knowing he had someone looking out for him."

"Of course." she said, "And then you can dedicate all your time and energy to worrying about your brother, who seems fine, but definitely isn't."

"Yeah." he admitted.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean was surprised to find Cas leaning over the Lincoln's engine. He had rarely lifted the hood before. "Problem?" he said.

Cas stepped away from the car as if he had been caught about to steal it. "No." he said, "I was ... I like to check things are working."

"Yeah, that's good." said Dean, then, very cautiously, picking every word with care he said, "I heard you had an accident. Must have been a shock. Do you want me to take a look?"

"Thanks. I'd welcome a more expert eye. Bobby put her back together nicely, but ... "

"Her? I don't think I ever heard you call her that before."

"I don't know." said Cas, "Things have been different."

Dean put his hand on Cas's shoulder, ignoring a feeling in his mind like the slithering of snakes. "I know. I know things have been hard." he said. He felt nauseated. He had to let go. 

Cas looked at him, noticing too much. "Dean?" he said.

"I can't help it." said Dean, "It's not real. It's a reaction to Michael." But they both knew it was real, however much of a reaction it might be.

"Maybe we should just avoid each other until you've had some time to recover." said Cas.

"If that's ... " Dean stopped himself. "You're not Michael. You're nothing like him."

"This is not a matter of rational comparison." said Cas, "This is simple disgust, a physical, emotional reaction, not a logical one."

"Does that mean it doesn't hurt you?" said Dean.

"It means it shouldn't. It means I won't let it. We're still friends, yes?"

"Of course we are." said Dean.

"That's what matters, not at what distance I need to stand for you to feel safe."

"I trust you." said Dean.

Cas reached out his hand in a blessing gesture and Dean stepped back.

"That was a low trick." said Dean.

"I wanted to cut through all that stupid, pointless denial." said Cas, "There is a problem and you do not trust me."

"In my head, I do. In my heart, I do. My gut is outvoted."

"And which do you believe?" said Cas.

Dean took a look at the engine. He checked everything, slowly and methodically, before nodding and closing the hood. "This thing really had a crash?"

"Hit a tree." said Cas, "Neither car nor tree came out of it well."

"How about the driver?" said Dean.

"Didn't even feel it." said Cas, "Angels are fairly resilient."

"Do you wanna talk about why it happened?" 

"No, never." said Cas.

"Right. Okay. Just make sure it never happens again."

"I never intended for it to happen this time." said Cas.

"No, it was an accident." said Dean. Cas said nothing. "It was an accident, right?"

"Yes. It was an accident."

Something in the angel's eyes told him this was not the time to pursue the discussion. "So, what are your plans today?"

"Jules is out ghoul-hunting. Until she comes home, I have no plans."

"And when she comes home, big plans?" said Dean hopefully.

"Not really."

"Not really." Dean repeated, disappointed. "Dude, you need to make a life for yourself."

"My life is great as it is."

"Well, your car's operational and I have to go to Ionia, so ... "

"So?"

Dean looked from one car to the other. Sarah's farm was a peaceful place where he could be free of everyone else's fears for him. The last thing he needed was to take the biggest cause of stress with him, but if he didn't, it would be hard to claim that he wasn't running away.

"I'll only be gone a few hours." he said.

"See you when you get back." said Cas. 

Dean went over to the Impala. "I mean, if you feel like coming along for the ride ... "

"No." said Cas, "You really don't want that."

Cas understood. It was both miraculous and unwelcome. Cas knew he was trying to overcome the loathing he felt for the idea of being in close proximity to any angel. 'Any angel' should never have included Castiel.

"I'm sorry." said Dean.

"I know you are. Go to Sarah. You need the peace of her farm. There's no peace for you with me around."

"Come anyway." said Dean.

"What?" said Cas.

"Please. We can't fix this in different towns."

"Can we fix this at all?"

"Sarah thinks so."

"Separate cars, then?" Cas suggested.

"Just get in the frickin' Impala." said Dean.

When they were both in the car, he sent a text to Sam. "Taking Cas to Ionia. Back soon."

The single word reply came quickly and was, to Dean, an unambiguous warning that he had bridges to fix on his return. It said, "Fine."

"That's what the Pact says." said Dean.

"What is?" said Cas.

"That I will hurt my brother every way he can be hurt." said Dean.

"Maybe we should stay and put right whatever's wrong." said Cas.

"It's not a quick fix."

"What is, these days? What ever was?" 

"One broken friendship at a time, okay?" said Dean, starting the engine.

"Ours isn't broken."

"My head is." said Dean.

When they were out on the open road, Cas said, "I want to thank you."

"It's a short drive to Sarah's place. It's not a week in Vegas."

"Not for this," said Cas, "Although this is a big deal too. I wanted to thank you for what you did in saying yes to Michael."

"You hated me doing that." said Dean.

"True, but if you hadn't done it, there was no other way to kill Lucifer and to save Sam and Jack. That's why I need to thank you, because I seemed ... I was ... I was angry and you took that as criticism, but it was pure fear."

"Yeah, I know. I get it." said Dean, not wanting to talk about any of it, especially when he needed a clear head for driving.

"I'll always hate the price you paid, but you paid it and because of that, they're alive."

"And Michael is loose in the world and about to burn it down." said Dean.

"I know you're trying to forget the whole thing ... "

"Yeah, I am, so let's not talk about that. Tell me about Jack. How's he doing without his grace?"

"Well, he can stand near you without sparking your new ... "

"Cas, I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry. I'm sorry I mentioned it. Just looking for some way around it."

"Like depleting your grace? I thought we ruled that out when we had issues with the link."

"Not my preferred option, but whatever I need to do ... "

"My problem, not yours. I'll fix it."

"On your own?" said Cas.

"It's how I do my best work."

"No, Dean, it really isn't."


	8. Chapter 8

Sam spent an hour at the firing range, blasting away his rage and frustration and hopefully, keeping his skills sharp. His aim was excellent, effortless, as natural as breathing. The hunter in him was satisfied. The Winchester desperate for John's approval and Dean's was content. He still wanted to tear the place apart or punch someone.

He wanted to kill Michael.

He went to the Dean Cave, locked the door and settled down to fail to watch whatever uninspiring eye-fodder happened to be available. Moments after he started it playing, his mind wandered from it and it became irrelevant. He had other things to think about.

Hell had not been good for Dean. It was only in the past few years that Dean had even begun to address what it had done to him and the damage was extensive. Because of Hell, Dean thought he was evil. Because of Hell, Dean thought he was worthless. That both had endured Hell should have brought them closer together, but it had thrown up walls between them that they had then had to tear down with their teeth - and the Winchester Pact. 

They had started to do exactly that. First, using Cas as a safe pair of ears, saying to him what they could not say to each other and then, finding him not to believe them monsters, finding him able to face what they said, they had begun ... only begun to talk to each other.

Recently, they had admitted things to each other they had hidden for most of their lives. Dean had confessed to weaknesses that were weaknesses only in his own mind and Sam had been able to tell him that. It hadn't been perfect and they'd both been guilty of slipping back into bad habits, but now, they caught themselves and apologised and would, after a brief pause, make an effort to return to the path of progress and teamwork.

Then Michael, with his sledgehammer brutality and disregard for humanity had tricked Dean into saying yes and hijacked his body and soul. That he had ditched him when the body was injured, under circumstances that made little sense so far did not help at all.

If Dean had broken free, it might be different, but he had not. Michael had discarded him like a burger wrapper. Dean's self-esteem had never been high and surrendering his will to Michael even unintentionally, had been devastating for him. Being cast aside without explanation just made it worse. Sam knew his brother. Going to Sarah was good, but going without him meant only one thing, Dean was ashamed. 

All those hours of talking, all those moments when he or Cas got through to Dean and made him feel respected, validated, loved and forgiven, all seemed pointless now. 

That he wanted to overcome the issues he had brought home with him was good, a sign of the strength that he had never lost, even when all hope seemed gone. Dean would never stop fighting, even if the fight seemed pointless. He was John Winchester's son and John had clawed his way out of Hell to fight for his sons.

Dean would always be strong, even in his weakest moments, but the shame and guilt he carried, always a heavy burden, now seemed infinite. If the Pact had worked, he would have asked Sam to go with him, knowing that whatever he said or felt or tried not to say or feel, Sam would never change his good opinion of him, would never stop loving him. But the Pact had clearly failed. Sam had failed. Michael had crushed Dean's spirit and destroyed, not just his always fragile faith in himself, but his faith in his brother's love and the bonds of blood.

For a moment, the choice to take Cas had felt like it was underlining his rejection of Sam. It was not, "I need to be alone." but, "I need not to be with you." A lifetime of fear that he was unworthy of Dean's devotion had been screaming in his head when he had punched out that one-word text that seemed so unkind and resentful now.

The word 'fine' could mean anything, of course. A text had no tone. He could claim, if necessary, that he had meant it differently. But they had been breathing the same air for a lifetime. They could finish each other's sentences, when they even needed words at all. Dean knew how he would take the decision to take Cas and he knew exactly how Dean would hear that "Fine." in his head.

Just for that single moment, he had meant it that way. It hurt, to be pushed aside, once again, for someone else ... anyone else, but especially the angel. Who was their best friend. Who loved Dean as much as he did. Who was now with him, in the car, countering any shame or self-blame he uttered with patient, unconditional friendship.

When he thought about it, that was quite something. Dean didn't want angels anywhere near him after Michael. His desire to change that and overcome it so he and Cas could remain friends was laudable and nothing proved his intention to do that more than having that specific angel right beside him on a day when he was clearly not feeling his best. 

Dean was trying, which made Sam feel like a dick for taking it all so personally when he should have been supporting whatever Dean needed to do. He was behaving like an insecure eleven-year-old when Dean needed adult support. No wonder he would rather take the mature, wise angel.

It wasn't like that, he knew. Dean had taken Cas because he knew that avoiding Cas would not solve anything. He was defeating his emotional issues by an act of will and as his brother ... as a Winchester, Sam was proud of him. In his own way, Dean was killing Michael right now, by defeating the darkness he had left behind.

He couldn't send another text, especially the one he wanted to send, without telling Dean he knew how the previous one had sounded and also knew that the trip to Ionia had nothing to do with electrical renovation, but alone in the Dean Cave, grateful for once that he had no mental link with Dean, he whispered, "Kick it in the ass, Dean."


	9. Chapter 9

Dean found conversation on the way to Ionia somewhat stilted. Cas was too obviously trying not to make him uncomfortable and he was aware that he wasn't being any less obvious in trying to seem normal. They talked about the weather and the bunker and the bees and the evidence for ghouls in Fort Riley, but all the time, Dean's angel-twisted instincts were yelling at him that there was an enemy in the car, a monster, capable of overpowering him without effort.

He tried to concentrate on the music, playing it louder, mouthing the words. It still felt as if he had a snake on the passenger seat. Maybe he needed to stop trying to ignore the problem and meet it head on. He turned down the music and said. "So, this mind link thing you have with Sam, do you spend a lot of time at Bobby's?"

"No." said Cas, "Actually, we don't use Bobby's. It felt wrong to both of us to be there without you."

"Oh. Right. So what's it like?"

"Dean, do you really want to discuss this now?"

"Do you really wanna ask that question?" said Dean, "I'm trying, man."

"It's a castle."

"A castle? You and Sam have a frickin' castle?"

"Yes. It's a crusader castle, Krak Des Chevaliers."

"You and Sam have a castle and you and I have a house with peeling wallpaper?"

"Are you jealous?" said Cas, confused.

"No, I'm not jealous, just ... I mean, a frickin' castle. Do you have servants?"

"No, of course we don't have servants."

"I mean, you had that palace before."

"Not the same thing." said Cas.

"Am I the reason we had Bobby's place?"

"What do you mean?"

"My limited mind. I think too small?"

"The Krak is less detailed than Bobby's. The intricacies of Bobby's house are based on years of familiarity." said Cas, "Every stain on his desk is there."

They went on in silence for a while, then Dean said, "I do miss it."

"If you ever want it back, Sam and I can help you reopen the link."

Dean repressed a shudder at the thought. "For now, at least, I don't." he said.

"Yes, I got that." said Cas, "Every muscle in your leg just tensed."

"You see too much."

"Always. One of the worst things about being an angel. Hard to be deceived, harder to deceive myself."

Dean searched for a change of subject and decided on, "So, why haven't you formed a mental link with Jules?"

"Like you, she has a problem with angels." said Cas, "When I ... Well, she needed to get through to me and she prayed. Since then, she only really sleeps if I zap her."

"But she does let you zap her. That's good."

"My point is that all angel stuff brings back things she doesn't want to remember." said Cas and there was pain in his voice.

"I'm sorry." said Dean.

"Don't be. You weren't the idiot who forced her to pray."

They didn't speak much after that. When they arrived at the farmhouse, Sarah came out to meet them. "Dean!" she said, hugging him as soon as he was out of the car. "I've missed you, boy!" she said, "I may never let go again. I didn't expect to see you today."

"I needed to get out of that place. Everyone's looking at me like I'm about to break."

"And are you?" she said, stepping back to look at him.

"Probably." he said.

Cas was getting out of the car.

"Bringing Castiel ... " she began.

"I thought I could take a look at your electrical problem." said Dean quickly.

"What problem?" said Cas.

"An intermittent ... "

"Dean thinks he might be able to make our wiring and bulbs more reliable." she said, "It's nothing to worry about."

"Bobby could do that." said Cas, looking suspicious.

"Why should Bobby have to, when you have me?" said Dean. He wished he knew how to distract an angel, but nothing came to mind.

"I'll show you the situation in the barn." said Sarah, "Then you can look over the house. Castiel, dear, would you make us some coffee?"

"Of course." he said, heading immediately into the house.

Sarah smiled at Dean and started walking to the barn. He followed. Not a word passed between them until they were inside the barn, far enough from Cas that he would be unlikely to overhear.

"You look so burdened." she said.

All the usual reassurances lined up in his throat, but she was a difficult woman to lie to. "Bringing my burdens here isn't really fair to you." he said.

"Seeing you, getting to hug you again, that's worth anything." she said, "And I see you're defeating your demons already, enough to bring Castiel with you."

"I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"Why did you do it?"

"Because it was hard. Because leaving him behind felt like I was giving in to it. I hated every second of driving over here. He keeps giving me weird looks, suspicious, scheming. I don't blame him. I must seem very different."

"I thought he looked worried." she said, "You've admitted to a kind of paranoia about angels."

Dean thought about it. She had a point. "You said you think I can come back from this." he said.

"I don't remember saying I think that. I know you can."

"Well, I think I need your help and his too. Though God knows, I don't deserve either."

"If God doesn't know better than that, God may need a little chat with me." she said.

"That would be interesting. Look, I'll understand if you would prefer me to leave him out of it."

"God?"

"Castiel."

"Oh. And how would that work, exactly?" she said.

"What I mean is ... "

"You don't want him hurt."

"Yes. None of this is his fault."

"Or yours." she said.

"My problem." he said.

"And his and mine and Sam's." She straightened his shirt collar. "I think we all need that cup of coffee and we need to talk honestly."

"The honest truth is, just the thought of going into your kitchen while he's there makes me feel queasy."

"Can you do it?"

"I don't want to." he said.

"Is this from you, or from Michael?"

"I don't know." he admitted.

"Is going over there more or less disturbing to you than the idea of a permanent rift between you and Castiel?"

"Ideas are one thing. This is in my gut. This is stopping my legs from taking a step. I used to think angels needed consent. Now I know better."

"Has Castiel ever possessed you?" she said.

"No."

"Then your beef is with Michael."

"Yes, I know that. I also know that, if he tries to touch me, I'll fight."

"Then we'll make sure he keeps his distance. If I promise that, will you come over there with me?"

He almost pointed out that Cas could overpower them both, then realised how insane that sounded. Until recently, he had trusted Cas without thinking. He nodded.

She took his hand and looked up at him, always so much shorter than she seemed in his head, a small woman with a big presence. "I'm so proud of you, my boy." she said.

"Tell me that later, if you still can." he said.


	10. Chapter 10

Before they even made it to the kitchen, Dean heard Cas moving around in there and took a step back. "I can't." he whispered, "If he looks at me, he'll know how much I hate this."

"He already knows." said Cas, without coming out of the kitchen, "If you want me to disappear while you have your coffee, I can go and talk to the bees or the chickens, or I can go back to the bunker."

"You should know," said Sarah, "While you were away, Castiel and I discussed your return many times. He knew, without me needing to tell him, that you would come out of it with some unfortunate feelings about angels and we talked about how we would handle that. He is more prepared for this than you are."

"You're assuming my reluctance is more about his feelings than my fear." said Dean, "I'm not sure that's true."

"You can always overcome your fear, Dean." she said, "It's far harder for you to force yourself to take action that will hurt a friend."

"Oh, I've hurt plenty of friends." he said.

Cas appeared in the doorway. Dean backed away again. "I'm sorry." he said.

"So am I." said Cas, "I'm sorry my kind ever came here to pollute this world. I'm sorry Michael treated you as he did. I'm sorry I couldn't find another way to stop Lucifer. I'm sorry your wounds run so deep. If you want me to go, I will go."

"I want you to go." said Dean, "There's nothing I want more. But I'm asking you to stay. If I give in to this sickness in my head, we'll never be as we were. Each time, it'll get easier and more appealing to send you away. I owe you more than that."

"You never owed me a thing." said Cas.

Dean's whole body was resisting forward movement. Cas was watching him with a look of sympathy. He understood, but that very understanding felt like an intrusion, a refusal to accept his boundaries. His rational side shouted at him that he was wrong, but his instincts and emotions told him his enemy stood before him, duplicitous, cruel and dangerous and his conscience whispered to him that he should leave Cas out of it and straighten his head out before attempting to be near him again. Sarah stood behind him. He knew both of them would accept whatever he decided to do.

It was Castiel, not Michael in front of him. However much they understood his feelings, he could find nothing to justify them. He was certain in his loathing, but also knew he was completely wrong. He was hurting his friend, torturing his brother. He was betraying Cas because of Michael, punishing Cas for all that Michael had done.

Somehow, he made his foot take a step towards Cas. Another step was easier, though revulsion coursed through him.

Cas backed away into the kitchen and went to stand on the other side of the table.

"It's okay." said Dean, "Let's have that coffee." He sat down. Even with Sarah handing him the cup, his hand shook a little.

Sarah turned to Cas and said, "How do you feel, Castiel?"

"Better than he does." said Cas.

"If that's the best you can say," said Dean, "Then this is very unfair to you."

"Fairness doesn't apply to us, does it?" said Cas, "May I speak honestly?"

"The way I'm treating you? You can punch me in the face, if you like."

"Stop that." said Cas, "This is not your choice."

"You think that makes it better?"

"It makes it not your fault." said Cas.

"What did you want to say, Castiel?" said Sarah.

Cas looked at Dean. "Do you need me to move further away before I speak?"

Dean shook his head. "Where you are is fine." He had to get used to having Cas in close proximity. Cas made eye contact and Dean forced himself not to look away.

"You think this is making me unhappy. It's not. Nothing can make me unhappy right now. You were gone. You came back. If you had come back a gibbering wreck who hated me, still I would have been happy. I know you. You can overcome anything. We can fix anything. As Jules pointed out while you were missing, even if you'd come back dead, we'd have found a way to bring you to life."

"Jules is certainly a glass half full person."

"Getting you back was all that mattered," said Cas, "And now, you're here. So I'll take the win. I'll take you as you are, however damaged. Snap and snarl as much as you like. Doubt me, hate me and all my kind. You're alive and you're you ... "

"Barely." said Dean.

"You enough to make it worthwhile to get the rest of you back. And we will get you back, Dean."

"Of course we will." said Sarah, "You two have been friends for a long time. I'm sure you have a lot of stories to tell."

"We do." said Dean, smiling, "I asked him to cover me once and he threw his coat over my head."

"Your demand was ambiguous." said Cas, "And you can't deny, I was fast."

Dean tried not to laugh. "You were. You were fast and if being suddenly unable to see the enemy had been what I was going for, we would have achieved that so quickly."

"What happened?" said Sarah.

"Fortunately for us, the werewolf got distracted by the sight of me stumbling around with a coat over my head ... "

"He was laughing." said Cas.

"He was laughing," Dean confirmed, "Right up to the moment Sam plugged him in the heart. So the mysterious series of backpacker murders came to an end and the killer, I guess, died happy."

"I was pretty dumb in those days." said Cas.

"Not dumb, just not used to humans and their weird ways of expressing things." said Dean.

"He always defends me like that." said Cas to Sarah.

"Someone has to and you never do." said Dean.

"I agree with Dean." said Sarah.

"It's why I love you so much." Dean told her. There was another reason too. By making them talk about their shared past, she had made it possible for him to be around Cas without the feeling of loathing, because whatever he had always thought of angels. Castiel was always an exception. He looked at Cas and said, "Why I love you is more of a mystery. And why you give a flying fig about me is a bigger one."

"Maybe because when I screw up, you know I didn't mean to." said Cas, "Other commanders have been less forgiving to me."

"I am not your commander." said Dean.

"No, sir!" said Cas.

"I'm just not. We're equals, compadres, brothers in arms." His mind didn't recoil from the thought. "I screwed up, letting Michael in. Everything that came after, including this, is my fault. Some commander."

"No commander alive hasn't made bad decisions." said Sarah, "The test is how you deal with the consequences."

"It wasn't a bad decision." said Cas, "It saved Jack. It saved Sam."

"Very true." said Sarah.

"Sit at the table, Cas." said Dean.

"Are you sure?"

"Do I need to command it?"

Cas smiled. "See? Deny it all you want, you pull rank when you need to." He sat at the table with his coffee.

Dean felt his shoulders stiffen. The discomfort and unease were still there. He pushed them back and said, "Maybe I did save Jack, but there wouldn't be a Jack if you hadn't saved him, from us and from everyone else. He chose you as his dad for a reason."

"He sees all three of us as his dads." said Cas, but he seemed pleased.

"The kid loves you, Cas and he's right to."

"Yes, he is." said Sarah.

"You know what else he was right about?" said Cas, "When Michael put the announcement of your death on angel radio, he knew Michael was lying."

"He did?" said Dean, "How?"

"Instinct." said Sarah, "His human side is useful."

"Clearly. I still wish his grace would come back." said Dean.

"I'm sure it will." said Sarah.

"It will." said Cas, "It's just a little difficult to predict when." He watched Dean closely for a while, making him feel like a lab rat, then said, "How do you feel?"

"I'm not screaming inside." said Dean, "Touch my arm."

Cas reached out to do so and Dean said, "No. Stop! Okay, it's getting better, but it's still there."

"It'll take time." said Sarah.

"We have time." said Cas, "Whatever you need, for as long as it takes. I'm just glad you came back to us."

"Don't take any of it personally." said Dean, "I'm messed up. There is nothing wrong with you."

"There are a million things wrong with me." said Cas.

"Start listing them and I'm knocking you to the ground." said Dean.

"Please! You can't even touch me!" said Cas with a smile.

"That won't last."

"I hope not." said Cas.

"None of this will last, I promise." said Dean.

Cas looked at Sarah and said, "He keeps his promises."

"Except one." said Dean.

"You saved my son. You saved Sam. You saved the world from Lucifer."

"And unleashed Michael." said Dean, "The only person worse than Lucifer."

"Nobody blames you for that." said Cas, "Nobody except you and he's a dick."

"Yes, he is." said Dean.

"But also, he's a hero, who keeps on walking back into the fire." said Cas.

"I don't see him that way." said Dean.

"One day, one of us is going to make you see him that way." said Sarah.

"I don't deserve either of you." he said.

"Well, it's too late to get rid of us now." said Cas and that time, the eye contact didn't make him want to flee. Even better, Cas noticed the change and gave him a nod of thanks and approval.


	11. Chapter 11

Sam was cleaning guns in the armoury when Jules called. She was scrupulous about checking in and keeping him informed. "Hey, Jules!" he said, "How's it going?"

"Three ghouls dealt with." she said, "Dirty fighters, but so are we. We'll be home in around two and a half hours, maybe a little longer. Cody wants to stop somewhere for food." 

Cody Bremer was a hunter from Wichita who had sought out the Winchesters some time ago. A former marine, he had some serious battle skills and a big appetite and always seemed to get hungry after a hunt. Sam had recommended him to Jules for her team and Cody had more than proved his worth since joining. 

"Feed him well. He deserves it." he said, "No hurry to get home. Things are quiet here."

"How's Cas?" she said.

"Cas went to Ionia with Dean." he said.

"That has to be good, right?" she said.

"Has to be." he agreed, "Proves Dean is serious about getting over his issues with angels."

"I think our angel is the only one he cares about." she said.

"Yeah, well, our angel is the only one worth caring about."

"The exception to everyone's angel issues." she said, "I hope he's okay. This thing with Dean isn't easy for him."

"No, I know." 

"I know it's worse for Dean. I can't imagine what it's like, to have one of those winged freaks controlling you, living inside you. I hated being near them."

"And Dean never liked to surrender control to anyone." said Sam.

"He's not a man who would settle happily into blind obedience." she said, "That's more Castiel's thing."

"Even he doesn't do that now." 

"No, but breaking free of the habit was hard for him. How are you doing, now Dean's back?"

"I'm doing great." he said, "I was dreading what state he would be in when he reappeared, but he's rational and he's capable and it's so good to know he's with Sarah, addressing his problems, rather than locked in his room marinating in them."

"You wish you were with him." she said.

"Yeah, but I get why he doesn't want me there. I just keep reminding myself, it could all be a lot worse. He came back wounded, as we knew he would, but not corrupted or broken or destroyed. He'll get through this. He'll be stronger than ever and he and Cas will be stronger than ever and they both know where to find me if they need my help."

"Sam, they'll always need your help."

In the background, he heard Cody say, "Is that Sam? Did you tell him about the fight?"

"Is there something I should know about the fight, Jules?" said Sam.

"Cody just likes telling the stories." said Jules, "So I'll leave that to him." There was something she wasn't saying.

"Did someone get hurt?" said Sam.

"I was distracted and one of them punched me. Not a big deal. If Cas asks, just tell him I have a slight bruise. It doesn't even hurt. I'm just a little worried, because Cas hates physical injury to me. I have to distract him from my scars when he sees them. Fortunately, he's easily distracted."

"Not always."

"You don't have my relationship with him. I can distract him very easily. He likes my tattoo."

Sam smirked to himself. "I don't think it's the tattoo he likes. I think it might be the hip."

"Either way, it distracts him well."

"It would." said Sam.

Jules spoke to her team for a moment, sending them to load the Jeep. Then she said to Sam, "How would you feel about me talking to Dean? I mean, I have some experience of angel problems."

"Talking to Dean about stuff that matters is a delicate process." he said, "He can clam up so fast and even when he will talk, he can't always listen."

"I just thought maybe I'd buy him a drink and see if I can help."

"It's worth a try." he said. Jules was good with other hunters, understanding of their different levels of denial, anger and avoidance, skilled at getting to what was really bothering them when they swore at a shotgun or yelled at the TV. She herself carried a lot of tightly-packaged trauma and she barely mentioned any of it. She knew every tactic Dean used to avoid talking, because they were all part of her toolkit of repression too.

Just as she understood Dean, Sam understood her. All three of them focused on helping others as a way to forget or at least conceal their own troubles. Maybe, in getting Dean to open up about the angel stuff, she might talk a little about her apocalypse. Cas had tried to get her to do that, but she was especially hesitant to discuss with him anything concerning celestial matters. She knew, as did Sam, how often he heard any criticism of angels as a personal rebuke.

Perhaps, talking with Dean in a bar, the natural habitat of so many hunters, she could say more and maybe, with nobody he needed to protect around, talking to a fellow survivor of angelic evil, Dean would be able to talk more freely. Whatever happened, it would get Dean out of the bunker for an evening.

"I think it's a good idea." he said, "I'll see you later."

"Yeah. Have some cold beers ready."

"They're already waiting for you." he said.

He put his phone away and went to wash the gun oil from his hands. For a moment, they didn't look like his hands, but like his father's. He remembered watching his father do the same thing after cleaning his guns and he could remember wondering if his hands would ever grow so large and strong and competent.

He was a hunter, with a hunter's hands. He could load a gun without thinking, aim a crossbow instinctively, sever a head with one clean swing of a machete. He had grown up into a man his younger self would neither recognise nor understand. 

So often, as a kid, he had stared at the stranger in the mirror, longing to know who he was, or could be. For too many years, he had been too busy running away to see clearly who that man was. When he stopped to catch his breath, at college, he had thought maybe the man was a lawyer. Certainly, he could not be a hunter, like Dean or Dad. But then, that was part of the problem. He could never hope to be like Dean or Dad and the fierce pride in his soul would never come to terms with being their pale reflection. Better to excel at mediocrity than try and fail to shine as a hero.

Saving the world a few times should have boosted his confidence and it had, a little, but the biggest boost had been something else. The hunters he now worked with were some of the best. They didn't say, "I knew your father. He was a better hunter than you." They frequently assumed John Winchester's ability because they had seen that of his sons. They respected Sam. Even Dean respected Sam. Surrounded by the esteem and encouragement of hunters he could truly respect, Sam finally felt like Sam Winchester, hunter. He finally felt like John Winchester's son and worthy to stand beside Dean Winchester, whether or not Dean felt able to let him be that close.


	12. Chapter 12

Washing the coffee cups, Sarah said, "How do you two feel now?"

"Unfair question." said Dean. He looked at Cas. "How I feel ... It's still not how I want to feel."

"I'm just happy that we're in the same room." said Cas, "Still happy just to be on the same planet. For a time, I wondered if we'd lost you forever."

"I think I should let you talk alone for a while." she said, "But if you need me here as a buffer or as support, I'll stay."

"We'll soon be in the car together again." said Dean, "I think we should be okay."

"Castiel?" she said.

"As I tell you every day, I'm fine." said Cas.

"Every day?" said Dean.

"Castiel had a difficult time when you were missing."

"Yeah, I heard."

"So I worry and I ask too often and he tells me he's fine, because you're alive."

"And that's really all it takes?" he said to Cas.

"It always has been."

Sarah headed for the back door. "I'll go and check on the bees. If you need me, I'm just outside."

When she'd gone, Dean said, "Just how accidental was your accident?"

Cas nodded. "You think I was planning to die?"

"You drive like a Sunday school teacher. You don't have accidents."

Cas stood and walked to the window. Dean wondered whether he wanted to be nearer Sarah or further from him. Then he saw his eyes and knew he had moved away to spare Dean, already unhappy in his presence, from close proximity to his pain. "It wasn't a suicide attempt." said Cas, "The impact never had a chance of killing me."

"I know that and you know that, but did you think that way at the time?"

"I wasn't thinking much at all, at the time." said Cas.

"That's what I thought." said Dean.

"I heard you were dead and I ... I don't know. I stopped existing."

"You stopped existing?"

"Not literally. At least, I don't think so."

"Then what?" said Dean.

"I wasn't me. I wasn't there. The angel, Castiel, was present in the vessel, which is how the vessel survived, but I, Cas, stopped being. You were what held me to this world and if you were gone, so was everything that was me about me."

"You're making no sense." said Dean, hearing the condemnation in his voice too late to temper it. Before Cas could respond, he said, "Michael crap! Pay no attention." He consciously calmed his voice and said, "What I mean is, I don't understand."

"I stopped thinking of anything but your death. I didn't care about the car ... didn't know I was in a car. I didn't even know I was in a vessel. I didn't feel the impact, even as mere force. I wasn't me. I wasn't even him. I was just some dead-eyed angel, not caring about anything in the world."

"That doesn't sound good. Maybe that sounds worse than suicide."

"It was the first time in a long time that self-destruction didn't seem like a relevant option. I didn't want to die. I didn't want anything. Nothing felt real." He looked out of the window and then back at Dean, "I didn't realise until then how much of who I am is anchored in who I am to you."

"You can't depend on me, Cas. Even if I can get back to normal, one day, I will die."

"Yes, I know." said Cas, "But delay it as long as possible, because I don't like what's left of me when you're gone."

"Sarah's right. We've got a lot of stories to tell and a lot of memories to talk about and that's what you need to focus on, because I will die and I don't want to take you down with me. Don't give up, when I'm gone. Remember me, avenge me, then live for me. Remember the good times. Remember we were friends."

"Were friends?"

"It'll be past tense then, because I'm dead. I don't mean that now, we're not friends."

"Even though, now, I disgust you?"

"Sam disgusts me all the time. We're still brothers." said Dean, feeling his smile fade as the joke fell flat. He felt a burst of anger, but that was Michael's legacy too and he crushed it before it could choose his words. "The truth is, Cas, only you and Jack are forever. The rest of us are fairground attractions and soon, the carnival will end."

"Not soon." said Cas, "I need more time."

"And we'll give you as much time as we can, but when all that's left is a heap of memories, those memories have to be enough. Jack needs you and he needs you to be you, not some stinkin', useless, heartless angel." He stopped talking. The hostility was not warranted and it was not helpful. "Sorry." he said.

"Sorry?" said Cas.

Dean stood up and took a step closer to him. His flesh crawled, but he ignored it. "Yes, I'm sorry. I can't control it and you don't deserve it."

Cas shook his head. "And this is a hunter who can notice a window left open three floors up. Look more closely, Dean. You are controlling it! You want to put miles between us. You can hardly bear to look at me, but you're putting all that aside so we can be in the same room and talk."

"None of this should happen at all." said Dean, "I'm totally screwed in the head and I hurt Sam earlier and now I'm hurting you and I hate every single second of this."

"Hurting me or being around me?" said Cas.

"Both." said Dean, "Some friend I turned out to be."

"Yes, you stink." said Cas, a gleam in his eye.

"No need to agree, dumbass." said Dean, trying not to smile.

"You hate it when I argue." said Cas, "When we get back, you and Sam should talk."

"I don't think Sam'll be in the mood for that." said Dean.

"What, and you're in the mood for this?"


	13. Chapter 13

When a text arrived from Jules. Cas showed Dean, mercifully ignoring the way he flinched at the movement. "Almost home. Just leaving Dispatch. Love you." it said.

"I guess I should get you home." said Dean, "Get Sarah in here."

Cas called Sarah in and she came into the kitchen and looked from him to Dean and back. 

"Everything's fine." said Dean, "We've talked. We've managed to stand close together without anything bad happening. But now, Romeo here needs to get home, because someone much prettier than me will be waiting for him."

Cas looked at him as if trying to decode an insult from that. Sarah just smiled and that reaction reassured Cas. She was a lot better at subtext than he was, though, to Dean's mind, she could hardly be worse. Only Jack could.

Sarah fetched a pie and gave it to Dean. "I made this for you, so you can celebrate your return properly."

For a moment, he was speechless. He knew how much work went into one of her pies and after all the trouble he had caused, he had not expected anyone to do something like that for him.

She saw him struggling for words and said, "Some of my best apples went into that. You know how I love to bake and you boys appreciate my food. You share that with Sam."

"I will." he promised, "Thanks. We should get going. Jules will be back before us."

Cas hugged Sarah. "Thanks, for everything." he said.

"You look after yourself." she said, "Dean needs your patience and your strength, but you can only be strong for him if you lean on us."

He nodded.

"I'll make sure he's okay." said Dean.

When they got to the car, Dean stowed the pie with care and Cas headed for the back seat.

"Hey!" said Dean, "You're in the front."

"I thought you might prefer ... "

"Well, maybe I would, but that's not gonna help us, is it? Besides, you never get to ride shotgun when Sam's around."

They'd been on the road for a few minutes when Cas said, "What will you do about Sam?"

"It's a big pie." said Dean, "And for his size, he doesn't eat much."

"You mean compared to you? Nobody eats as much as you."

"I need the energy." said Dean, hardly believing his luck that Cas had been so easily distracted.

"Talking to me, today, was hard." said Cas, "But you did it."

"Whatever my insane head says, your friendship is important to me."

"I know it is. In fact, there's only one relationship you value more."

With a sinking feeling, Dean realised Cas had not been distracted at all. The tactical warrior had merely circled around it and made a sneak attack.

"Sam needs a break from my stuff." said Dean.

"He had a break. We all did. We hated it." said Cas.

"I didn't leave any of you by choice."

"No, you didn't," said Cas, "And we all know that. Nobody blames you for what happened with Michael."

"I promised never to ... "

"Irrelevant." said Cas, "We've been treading on each other's broken promises for years. Keeping your promise would have lost us everything."

"So, what? I get a free pass?" said Dean, irritated that the angel was not angry or resentful and hating himself for being so irrationally unreasonable.

"Yes, obviously." said Cas, "It wasn't a choice. You were not to blame. This, of course, pushing Sam away, that's a choice."

"I'm not pushing him away. He wants to help. He wants to fix this ... to fix me and he can't."

"Sarah thinks you can be fixed." said Cas.

"Sarah thinks I can fix myself." said Dean, "Different thing."

"So, she advised you not to talk to Sam?" said Cas. It sounded almost like an innocent question, but Dean knew it was not.

"Screw you."

"Michael stuff, or Dean stuff?"

Dean stared at the road ahead. The truth was, he didn't know.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. They passed fields and farms and Dean wondered why he had ever thought an angel could be a friend. Cas didn't care about him or Sam. He was just poking at old wounds to see if they still hurt. They did.

"Sam needs you, Dean." said Cas.

"Not like this." said Dean, "I'm no use to anyone like this."

"Fine, then he needs to help you."

"I'm not helpable."

"Is that even a word?"

"Michael hated that you and I were friends."

"Past tense again?"

"Michael is in the past." said Dean, "He was angry about that. It disgusted him."

"Even our world's Michael felt that way to some extent." said Cas, "He and Gabriel argued about it. He said getting too close to humans was a corrupting influence."

"Hard to argue otherwise, about Gabriel."

"And about me?" said Cas, "I can't claim not to have been changed by humans."

That hurt more than his comments about Sam. He sounded as if he regretted the fact. Worse, it was probably justified regret. What had their friendship ever done for Cas?

"On behalf of humanity, I'm sorry." said Dean, speaking, in truth, only for himself, accepting, in his own mind, that he alone was to blame.

"I didn't mean it like that." said Cas, "I was only asking if I seem corrupted to you."

"You're asking the wrong person. I can't see past my own corruption."

"Dean ... "

"Shut up, okay? Just stop talking."

"You're not corrupt."

"So Michael isn't corrupting?"

"Michael is gone." said Cas.

"He didn't leave me unchanged. The change was not for the better."

"No." said Cas.

"And you want me to dump all that on Sam, after everything he went through with Lucifer. Why do you hate Sam that much?"

"You know I don't hate Sam."

"Well, you have a funny way of showing it." said Dean, hearing the insanity of every word as he lashed out at his best friend for caring about him and Sam.

The silence regained its ground. He knew that Cas had not missed the animosity in his words and even though he knew what lay behind it, he would feel every cruel little stab. He had never acquired the armour that humans who had to deal with Dean tended to develop.

"Cas," he said, later than he should have.

"Yes?" said Cas.

"Can we forget everything I've said since we got into the car?"

"Are you sure you want to?"

"None of it was memorable for any good reason." he said, "Do I get any points for knowing I'm being a douche?"

"Dean, after what you suffered ... "

"No. No excuses."

"As far as I'm concerned, we're still friends." said Cas, "And if, for a time, you need to hurl some insults my way, or ... "

"Or use you as a damn punchbag, because it's easier than facing the wreck I am inside?"

"Whatever you need."

"You think Jules would endorse that?"

"If she wouldn't, I wouldn't love her like I do."

"Being my friend has got to be the dumbest thing you've ever done."

"Possibly." said Cas.

"And you popped Purgatory."

"That, I regret, but being your friend? No."

"You stupid, dumb, idiot angel."

"Sounds like me." said Cas, "But you know what? Ditching Sam isn't your cleverest move either."

"I'm not ditching Sam."

"You have a funny way of showing it."


	14. Chapter 14

On arrival at the bunker, Cas went immediately to seek Jules and Dean made his way to the library where, as expected, Sam was on his laptop. "Anything I should know?" said Dean.

"No." said Sam, "The ghoul hunt went well. No injuries worse than cuts and bruises and everything here has been quiet."

"That's good." said Dean. Talking to Sam seemed suddenly almost as hard as talking to Cas.

"How was Sarah?" said Sam.

"Sarah was great."

"Relieved to see you, I'll bet."

"Hmm." That seemed an inadequate answer, even to him. "It was good to see her again." he said.

"And you and Cas? How did that go?"

"It went okay."

"You know I'll be asking him too, right?"

"Yeah, I know. I'm pretty sure he'll give the same answer." He saw the sceptical look in Sam's eyes and added, "Because it's true."

He stood awkwardly, beside the table, knowing he should sit down and talk to his brother, but wanting not to endure any more difficult conversations. Sam seemed equally uneasy, watching his eyes, but pretending not to.

"Hey, you got a minute?" said Dean, trying to sound casual about it.

"Of course." said Sam.

"Just to be clear, you can say no."

"But presumably yes is also an option. You wanna talk here or ... "

"Let's take a drive."

"You just came back from a drive."

"Sammy, I have pie."

Sam stood up. "Hold on a second, your pie or Sarah's pie?"

"Are you saying my pie isn't good enough?"

"No, just that your pie isn't Sarah's."

"It's one of hers."

"Then let's go." said Sam.

They left with the pie and a cooler full of beer. When the bunker was out of sight, Dean said, "I'm sorry, Sam."

"About taking Cas? It's okay. It made sense. I'm sorry I was weird about it. It's not about me."

"I thought taking him was the best way. We'll never beat this thing if I avoid him, but avoiding him was precisely what I wanted to do. I am sorry that I made it seem like I didn't want you around ... "

"You didn't. I'm not sure you do now." said Sam, his insight as accurate as it was unwelcome.

Dean chose to ignore it. "But that's not all I have to apologise for. I'm sorry for all of it. Leaving you like that ... "

"You didn't."

"Saying yes to Michael."

"We've been over this."

"Everything, Sam, every time I screwed you over. Every time I let you down. Every bad decision I ever made."

"You brought me out here to listen to this? I hoped you wanted to talk."

"I am talking. This is me talking. Watch my lips."

"This is you talking the same crap you've been talking for years." said Sam, "You never let me down, never! Even when it meant taking the one step you were determined never to take ... when it meant surrendering your life to that twisted, monstrous archangel ... "

"I can't talk about that." said Dean, "I'm trying not to think about it."

"You did that for me."

"Yes."

"And then you apologise to me?" said Sam.

"If I'd found another way ... "

"Yeah, what way would that be? If you'd wasted time looking for one, we'd be dead. If you'd hesitated for a moment, we'd be dead. You did what you always do, you thought on your feet and did something reckless that also happened to be the only right thing to do."

"I said I didn't wanna talk about this. Still don't." said Dean.

"And you apologise and talk like you're ashamed."

"Because of me, he's walking the Earth, our Earth. You expect me to feel good about that?"

"Because of you, we have a shot at killing him. You should feel good about that and you should talk about all of it, good and bad, because I'm your brother and I get it and I can help. I was ridden around by Lucifer."

"It's not the same."

"Because Lucifer and Michael are so different? Because I'm not seeing much of a difference."

"Because what you did, was heroic. You said yes to Lucifer so you could take him into the cage. You took him into your body and you fought him and you won."

"Again, not seeing a difference."

"I lost, Sam. I fought. I tried, but I lost. You can't understand because it was different for you."

Sam stared out of the window for a while, misery hanging around him like the smell of a week-old burrito. Dean wanted to say something, but he had nothing.

When the dead air between them became unbearable, he said, "What's the point of talking about it?"

"What's the point of not talking?" said Sam.

"You're not my therapist."

Sam barked a short, dismissive laugh.

"I mean it, Sammy. Not your job. Not your area."

"Because I don't understand? Even though I've known you my whole life? What, you think I can't list all the stuff you're going through? Shame, guilt, humiliation, fear that the real you is really gone this time, that the rift with Cas will never go away? That this time, you'll drive him away for good? And not just him, huh, Dean? You think if you tell me the truth, I'll despise you or worse, pity you."

"He said, pityingly."

"Bullcrap. I never pitied you in my life, Dean, not honestly. Let me tell you a secret that'll have you pitying me. The pedestal I've had you on since I was four years old? If you took off and nuked the damn thing from orbit, it wouldn't make a dent in it. There is nothing you can do or say or be that will ever make you less than superhuman in my eyes."

"I never felt less superhuman in my life." said Dean.

"You just can't do it, can you? You can't trust me." Sam looked into his eyes, his own eyes glittering with sudden tears that he was trying hard not to shed.

When Dean answered, he could barely force the words out. "This thing is breaking me, Sam and I can and I will get over it, but for now, all I can do is refuse to weigh you down with something you can't do anything about."

"I look nine to you?" said Sam.

"Nine feet, maybe." said Dean, trying to lighten the mood.

"I don't want your damn protection, Dean. I want your trust. I want the truth."


	15. Chapter 15

The moment Cas saw Jules, in the corridor outside their room, he noticed the dark bruise across her left eye. "You're hurt." he said.

"Not really." she said, "Just a lucky swing from a ghoul."

He touched her cheek, where the reddening was less bad. 

"Cas," she said, "This is nothing." She guided him into their room with a hand on his shoulder. "I'm a hunter." she said, "I get into fights."

"The ghoul ... " he said.

"Dead. Nobody hits me without consequences."

Despite his concern, he liked that. "Let me heal it." he said.

She looked doubtful.

"Please." he said, "I know you don't trust angels ... no hunter seems to ... "

"Do it." she said.

The damage was insignificant and it faded at the first touch of healing power from his cupped hand. It lingered a while in his mind, the mark of some monster's fist on her face, but at least it was gone.

She carefully pressed the skin under her eye. "It doesn't even hurt." she said.

"Angels can be useful." he said. He kissed her now uninjured cheek.

"I didn't hesitate because I don't trust you." she said, "It just seemed a waste of your celestial powers."

"I see it more as finding a use for them." he said, "Nothing is ever wasted on you. I know you don't need me to protect you on hunts. You're a hunter and a fighter and I respect that, but when you come home hurt, I can heal you." He thought for a moment, then added, "I do that for Sam and Dean all the time."

She sat on the edge of the bed and gestured for him to join her. When he did, she said, "Maybe you overreact sometimes, but it's sweet that you care."

"You were afraid." he said, "Thanks for trying to pretend otherwise, but you were."

She held his hand. "I hate that any of the wreckage from my world hurts you. If it helps, hurting you hurts me."

He squeezed her hand. "It doesn't, since the only thing worse than being hurt is seeing you hurt."

"I let you heal me." she said, "And I prayed to you that time. Progress."

"Well, I hope the healing doesn't cause as much harm as the prayers." he said, "Your sleep has been disordered since then."

She looked into his eyes, her face inches from his. "The last thing you need now is to worry about my battle scars."

"I always will." he said, "I wish I could heal those wounds."

"They'll fade into the background again. They always do. Maybe, one day, they'll stop hurting altogether."

"Dean's haven't. Sam's haven't."

"And yours?" she asked.

"Angels have a higher tolerance."

"Not my angel. You feel everything."

"I'm learning to live with it." he said.

"How did it go with Dean?" she asked, "How is he?"

"Strong, as always. Better than I expected him to be. Every moment he's around me torments him, but he's forcing himself to talk to me, for the sake of our friendship."

"Good. And how is it for you?"

"Dean's alive. That's enough for me."

"So you keep saying, but none of this is easy for you."

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. "My beloved, I never needed easy. It's not easy for him either. We scale mountains together, impossible mountains with sheer sides and little to hold onto. Its kind of our thing."

"That's why I need to be something you can hold onto." she said.

"And I need to be the same for you. Maybe one day, you'll feel able to talk to me more about the things that trouble you."

"Talking isn't easy. It brings it all to the surface."

"It's near the surface now. It's stopping you from sleeping."

"Talking gives it power and adds more for you to worry about." she said.

"It's possible that I can't help Dean. Helping you might make me feel less useless."

"You said Dean was working on his issues. So you are helping him." said Jules.

"I tried to persuade him to open up to Sam. That didn't go well. Everything I say just seems to make him angry."

"Anger, fear and guilt all come from the same well." she said, "Often, the same bucket."

"None of them could be called helpful." he said.

"If I talk to him, I might have more luck. I'm not an angel and we have no history together. Just one rough, gruff, angry hunter whining to another about the way our worlds collapsed."

"Rough, gruff and angry?" he said. He kissed her on the cheek. "All I see is beauty, strength and courage."

"In me or in him?"

"In you. In him. In your whole species. What the angels could have learned from you, had they bothered to spend some time studying you."

"In my world, they were too busy subjugating us."

"Here, they squabbled amongst themselves. Why are angels so stupid?"

"Not all angels."

"Yours is the worst." he said.

"No, mine did study humans."

"It took a long time to understand them." he said.

"I am one and I don't understand them."

"You even understand me." he said.

"Not all the way through, just enough to love you."

"It's more than anyone else managed." 

She put her arm around his shoulders. "I'm not the only one who loves you, Castiel. You have the Winchesters, Sarah and Jack. They understand you too, better than I do."

"I am fortunate. I know that."

"We're fortunate. You know how I feel about other angels and there's a reason why Dean is bothering to fight for your friendship. You don't think you matter, but you always will to us."

"I tell myself it's all Michael's influence, but it's possible Michael just stirred up anger that was already there, just as praying to me brought your trauma back."

"It's different. I wish I could explain, but I can't." she said.

"There's something in his eyes when he looks at me. Wherever his hatred came from, it runs deep."

"It's from Michael. He's evil. He causes pain and discord in everyone." said Jules.

Cas rested his head on her shoulder. "It feels so good to be close to you, to be near someone who isn't constantly backing away."

She rested her head on his. "I like this too. We should do a lot more of this."

"We should do a lot more." he said.


	16. Chapter 16

Sam had been quiet for a while, but Dean could almost hear him thinking. It was hard to know what to say. His apology hadn't worked and he was starting to think that bringing Sam out on the road like this was a mistake.

Suddenly, Sam said, "Dean, you remember a long time ago, like, a hundred years ago, when we were kids? You knew something had happened at school and I wasn't talking."

"You'll have to narrow that down some more." said Dean, "That happened a lot."

"The details don't matter." said Sam, "It was late. It was one of the nights we slept in the car, waiting for Dad to get back from a hunt. You just wouldn't go to sleep without knowing."

"Too many nights like that, too." said Dean, "You were one closed-off little kid. You acted like you were doing me a favour by never opening your mouth."

"You said, 'Sammy, it's just you, me and the car and you know she's not telling tales. Even if you can't talk anywhere else, you can say anything in the Impala.'"

"Yeah. I do remember that." said Dean, "As I recall, it worked. Master of child psychology."

"Yeah, you were." said Sam, "And it's still the same Impala, so the same applies to you. So talk, or you'll hurt her feelings."

"I'm not eight, Sammy."

"Neither am I, so drop the Sammy. Just pretend for a minute that you see me as an equal."

"Ha! Sam, I will never be equal to you. I'll never be close."

"If you can't be honest with me, could I be honest with you?"

"Impala rules. You can say anything to me here."

"What I'm about to say ... it isn't to hurt you or to blame you. I didn't want to tell you how things were, but now I think I have to."

"Well, that's nice and ominous."

"When you were gone, there was nothing I could do and that drove me crazy. I had no way to bring you back. You were alone, trapped and in pain and I couldn't do a thing and it was killing me, Dean."

"I know. You suffered more than I did. I know that."

"My point is, that should have changed when you got back. Here's my brother, who just went through a metaphorical Hell to beat the literal one and I can be there for him, help him get his life back together. Because we do that now, right? As agreed in the Pact? Except we don't. You don't. I still can't do anything to help, because you won't let me. After all you went through, there's still nothing you need from me."

"Nothing? Sam, I need too much. I need you like I never needed you before."

"Then why ... "

"When did you last sleep? How many hours a day do you spend running your ass off for your team of hunters? I'm a dead weight in every conceivable sense and I'm not sure how much more you can take."

"I can take anything but silence, Dean."

Dean accelerated. He was now certain that he should have locked himself in his room. He had no idea how to talk to Sam or even what there was to say, but to rebuff him now could only be cruel.

"Do you ever get tired of waiting for me to be a better man?" he said at last.

"Better than whom?" said Sam.

"Better than this self-pitying mess."

"Don't say that."

"You wanted me to talk." said Dean. He hated himself for saying it. Sam didn't deserve what he was doing, but if he failed to push him away, then they would both be trapped in a conversation they didn't need to have and what could Sam do about any of the things he wanted to talk about?

"It never gets any easier, does it?" said Sam, "Pact or not. you'd give anything to make me back off."

"What can I say?"

"Apparently, nothing. But what would you say if you could?"

Dean smiled grimly to himself. The kid never gave up and he was both impressed and annoyed. "You remember what I said about not being eight?" he said.

"Fine. You didn't fall for it. What would you have said if you had?"

"Sam, I made a mistake when I said yes. I know what I did hurt everyone. I will make things right, I swear, but first, I need to get my head straight."

"Which you have to do alone."

"It's better for everyone that way."

"It's not better for me that way." said Sam, "Was it better for you when I tried to handle everything on my own?"

"That's different?"

"Because I'm your kid brother? Because, in your head, I never grew up?"

Dean was getting angry. "Because you're not me!"

"I've tried to be, all my life. So, I fall short. Doesn't everyone?"

"Do you know what Michael said when he took this vessel? He said I was flawed, filthy and broken."

"And since when do we care about his opinion? This is the guy that roasted a world, yes?"

"He wasn't wrong about me."

"He was wrong about everything." said Sam.

"I'm crawling across a wasteland of my own making. The ground is on fire. I'll get to the other side, because even when I want to with all of my head and heart, I don't know how to quit. I never have. So I'll make it, but I can't ask you to crawl alongside me."

"When did you ever need to ask?" said Sam, "We come as a set. Whatever wasteland you're in, Cas and I will be there with you. Fighting us off seems a waste of effort, when we could be helping to haul you out."

"Well, Cas has no reason to want to help me."

"Cas spent the whole morning trying to help you."

"You think I'm ungrateful." said Dean.

"No, you think you're undeserving. Nobody else does."

"Wanna stop and eat the pie?"

"And straight to deflection." said Sam, looking and sounding exasperated.

"No." said Dean, "No, it's not that, Sammy ... Sam. I don't know. Maybe it is. I brought you here because ... Forget it. Pie."

Sam laughed. Dean glanced at him and he said, "Sorry, but how many times did you change direction just now?"

Dean pulled over to the side of the road. "Too many. This isn't easy."

"No, but you're trying. You brought me here because ... "

The truth felt needy and selfish, completely unreasonable. This was the time to either divert attention or lie, but if he did either, he'd choke on Sarah's pie.

"Dean, stop thinking and just say it!"

Dean shook his head. "You have enough to handle. So do I. I shouldn't be like this. It should be like flipping a switch. Michael's gone: boom! Back to normal, head in the game."

"It's not that simple."

"It should be. That's all I'm saying." His mouth continued without accompanying thought, "I'm weak and useless and I guess I needed my brother, but that doesn't mean you need to waste time on me."

"When Cas and I feel weak and useless, you're always there for us."

"Because you're wrong to feel that way. You're Superman and Cas is stronger than he thinks. I couldn't have done what he did today."

"When you're in sight, he can do anything. When you're out of reach, he barely functions on any level."

"He lived a long time without me."

"He lived without a lot of things. Now, he's as lost without you as I am. And I am, by the way, so if you need something, you got it. All I wanted, all the time you were gone, was to be here, in the Impala, with you."


	17. Chapter 17

Sam divided the pie and Dean opened two bottles of beer. "Big half for you, smaller half for me." said Sam.

"You can have the big half, if you want it." said Dean.

"No, this is how it should be." 

Dean was troubled. "How carefully are you eating, these days?"

"What?"

"Just checking. The healthier your diet, the worse your head is. It's a control thing, isn't it? 'I can't prevent the world from burning, but I can cut down on nitrates.' Right?"

"That's not true. I just try to look after my health. Don't want to get out of breath during a fight."

Dean looked at him in silence for a while, then decided to change the subject. "So, I hear you and Cas have a castle."

"Yeah, Cas came up with that." said Sam, "Said I remind him of a crusader. Me!"

"I can see that." said Dean.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Does it bother you, the castle?"

"Bother me? No!" Dean's eyes darted to Sam and quickly away. "Yes, it bothers me. Of course it bothers me. He and I have Bobby's and with you it's a frickin' castle. It bothers me." He grinned. "It shouldn't, should it?"

Sam smiled. "Did he tell you he reserved the northwest tower for you?"

"No, that he didn't mention."

"Probably thought it would freak you out. I don't get why you think it's better than Bobby's. I wish I could share Bobby's with the two of you."

"You wouldn't like it. It's infested with younger versions of me." said Dean, "I think you had enough of that growing up."

"Well, what makes a place home to me is you being around, so ... "

"It's also full of locked doors and subtext." 

"Those happen wherever you are." said Sam.

"Fair point." said Dean, beginning to relax.

"When you're ready ... and I'm not trying to rush you ... but when you want the link back, maybe the three of us can work on it together. You and Cas can show me Bobby's place and you can visit your tower."

"If I can't get the link back, it's good that you two have a link of your own."

"There's no reason you should have any trouble reopening the link." said Sam.

"I mean if I can't. If I ... It's weird now. Feels wrong. Dangerous."

"Sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned it yet. You need time." said Sam.

"Time may not be enough."

"No, I know." said Sam, "Michael did a lot of damage."

"And if we're going to kill him, I need a clear head."

Sam nodded, but said nothing.

"Killing him is still a priority. It has to be."

"Yes." said Sam, watching him closely.

"I know you think I'm dumb." 

"No. I've never thought that."

"And you think I'm risking the best friendship I ever had."

"Actually, I think you're trying to protect it."

"Oh. Well, maybe I think that, then."

"It does sound more like you. How do you feel about him now?"

"The further I am from him, the more I can think of him as a friend. When he's in the room, I just want to get out." He saw Sam's brow furrow and added, "But I'll get over it."

"I know you will."

"I'm sorry you had to deal with the fallout when he thought I was dead. Thanks for getting him through that."

"I didn't do much." said Sam, "Sarah and Jules kept him from going too far over the edge."

"He seems strong today, but I guess he thinks he has to, for my sake. The truth is, he won't say if things get bad and you know how bad things can get."

"Don't worry. I'll make sure he's okay. Leave him to me."

"And let me know if I need to give him some space."

"Isn't it you that needs the space?"

"I want it. Can't have it. But if he needs it, I'll back off for a while. If he needs a rest and a reset, you can always let him sleep with you."

"I thought we didn't call it that." said Sam.

"It's okay to call it that when it's you." said Dean. They shared a grin.

"Jerk." said Sam.

"Bitch."

"I wouldn't know how to do that anyway."

"Open the link and get him to put you to sleep from inside it and then follow you into unconsciousness."

"What's it like?" said Sam.

Dean smiled. "It's okay. It's weird, but it's good. You have to watch for his guilt issues ambushing him. You're like a sort of gatekeeper, because he can control the visuals ... incredible visuals ... but he has almost no control over all the repeating thoughts in his head. It helps him. Just a little bit of peace ... "

"He must miss it."

"Yeah." said Dean. He didn't miss the mental connection as such, the thought of it repelled him, but there was a sense of loss that he couldn't quite identify and he certainly regretted that Cas had to lose so much because he had not told Michael to go to Hell.

"Don't." said Sam.

"Don't what?" he said.

"You have enough to think about, without blaming yourself for everything Cas is going through."

"You have a bunker full of problems and you're here, worrying over what I'm going through."

"Dean, I worry either way. Here or at the bunker, I'd still be thinking about this. At least this way, I may be able to do something about it."

Dean ate the last piece of his share of the pie, taking his time over it as he tried to think of something to say. The distinctive taste of Sarah's best apples reminded him of her kitchen table chats and he knew what she would advise, honesty and gratitude. 

Sam was trying so hard to support him despite his prickly edges. He deserved better than glib distractions and jokes. 

"That's good pie." he said.

"It's great pie." said Sam.

"When we get back to the bunker, I'm gonna ... " he looked for a good way to put it.

"Hide in your room?" said Sam.

"Yeah." said Dean, "But not to avoid you, just because today's been ... "

"Too much to deal with." said Sam, "It's okay."

"Thanks for listening, Sammy ... Sam."

"Sammy's fine." said Sam, "Thanks for talking."


	18. Chapter 18

When they got back to the bunker, they went to the kitchen. Jack and Mary were there, finishing their lunch. Dean wasn't sure why he was less troubled by Jack's presence than Castiel's, but Cas had thought it was because of his diminished grace. The nephilim was close to human and maybe that made him seem less of a threat. Then again, maybe it was because Michael had hated the friendship between him and Castiel and maybe most of the loathing was borrowed from him, which was a nasty thought. He wanted nothing of Michael's left behind in his head.

"I wondered where you were." said his mother. She looked at both of them, but her eyes lingered longest on him. He hated that. 

Everyone looked at him with either concern or suspicion. Some, clearly thought that Michael could come back, or hadn't fully gone. He wished he could be sure that wasn't true, but he explored the dark corners of his mind and found nothing there that disturbed him. Well, nothing angelic, anyway.

"We went for a drive." said Sam.

"Sarah gave us some pie." said Dean, flashing a boyish grin and hoping she wouldn't see how fake his joy was. 

His mother gave him a look he knew well. She wanted to ask questions, but she wasn't going to, in case doing so caused more pain. "How are you now, Jack?" he said.

"I'm fine." said Jack, "I'm great."

"Good. That's good." 

He wandered out of the kitchen and into the library, almost walking into Cas in the doorway. He raised a defensive hand between them as if fending off an attack. Seeing the look in his friend's eyes, he lowered the hand and said, "Sorry. A little on edge, right now."

"I probably shouldn't stand so near the door." said Cas. Even his reasonable response was irritating, partly because everything he said or did irritated Dean or some remnant of Michael and partly because it reminded Dean how unfair he was being. 

Jules came over from the nearest table. "Hi, Dean. I haven't had much chance to talk to you since you got back. I wondered if I could buy you a drink tonight? It'd be good to catch up."

It was a way to escape the others in the bunker and although she no doubt wanted to discuss Cas, at least he wouldn't be there with them. However, he had no intention of causing more ill-feeling between himself and Cas. "If Cas has no objections." he said, "And I'm not saying you belong to him or anything archaic like that, it's just I wouldn't want him to think I'm making a move on his girl."

"Why would I think that?" said Cas, "What's wrong with two hunters having a drink together?"

Jules smiled at him. "Proud to say, my Cas doesn't have a jealous thought in his head. Of course, it will mean I won't be around tonight until later. You're okay with that?"

"If you're not okay with it, it's not happening." said Dean, looking directly at Cas for the first time.

"I think it's a good idea." said Cas, "And I'll never be jealous that my best friend likes my betrothed. It would be awkward if you hated each other. It's awkward enough that you hate me."

"I don't hate you." said Dean, knowing his face, tone and stance were loudly declaring that he did.

"Sorry." said Cas, "I know you don't really hate me."

"Quit apologising!"

"Sorry." 

Cas looked miserable and Dean's guilt stoked his anger until he wanted to hurl abuse at his friend until there was nothing left between them but rage. He stepped back, consciously trying to control his feelings.

"No, I'm sorry." he said, vaguely aware that Sam had entered the room behind him and was watching him with some concern. "I'm gonna ... " He nodded to the doorway and then went through it, heading for his room.

"Dean?" said Sam behind him.

Dean stopped and turned. "Maybe I shouldn't be around him. He keeps apologising and it just makes me wanna punch him. Maybe I need to get over this on my own."

"You think you can?" said Sam.

"You don't?"

"I think you were right to keep him around and you were right to talk to me in the limited way that you did."

"I think maybe it was worse because I didn't know he was there. I felt ambushed." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Sam, everything feels like that now."

He half expected a joke at his expense, but Sam just nodded and said, "I know, like you're on high alert all the time and you have no idea why."

"That's exactly it."

"Loud noises, sudden movements, anything touching you without warning ... "

"Yeah."

"You're even uneasy talking to me, because I might put a hand on your shoulder or step too close and right now, same zip code is too close."

"I hate that I feel this way and I hate even more that it applies to you." said Dean, "I should take off. I should go to one of the cabins and just get my head back together."

"If that's what you need, we can arrange that, but I think you should sleep on it. You're all shook up and not thinking clearly. Go to your room. Watch a movie. Watch three. Then go have a drink with Jules and talk about hunting for a few hours."

"You think she wants to discuss hunting?" said Dean, doubtfully.

"I think you can pick your subject. Jules is pretty easy to talk to."

"Sam, tell me the truth, do I seem like me?"

"Don't you feel like you?"

"No, not much. What if there's still something from Michael? What if I just think I'm free?"

"I'm sure Cas would have noticed when he searched your mind." said Sam.

"Yeah, I guess so. So the other possibility is that he left me so damaged that I'm useless."

"You'll never be that."

"Well, I wouldn't trust me on a hunt right now."

"No? I would. Best for you to get some rest, but if a hunt came up and you were interested, I'd be glad to have you with me."

"Then you're dumber than you look and with that hair ... "

"You've lost confidence, not competence."

"You mean I'm chicken." said Dean.

"I mean you need to give yourself a minute."

"You have all this stuff since Lucifer."

"Yes." said Sam.

"And you overcame it. You overcome it every day."

"Dean ... "

"You never took a day off. You never took an hour."

"That's not how I remember it." said Sam, "You need some peace." He turned to go, then turned back and said, "Do me a favour, give yourself the same consideration you'd show me."


	19. Chapter 19

Jumble Jim's was a hunters' hangout, but didn't know it. The bar staff didn't pay too much attention to the stuff said quietly over a drop of hunter's helper and it was far enough outside Lebanon to keep attention away from the bunker but near enough to get home safely after a few too many drinks. It was dimly lit and it wasn't getting any Michelin stars, but the beer and whisky were good and the glasses were clean.

Kayleigh was working the bar. She knew Dean by the name Campbell and thought he was in construction. It was a dull enough story that she asked no questions. Jules was a regular too and Dean had introduced her as a co-worker. It kept things simple.

"Hey, Jules! Hey, Dean!" said Kayleigh, "I haven't seen you for weeks, Dean."

"Big job in Duluth." he said.

"Long way to go for work." she said, "I hope they paid well."

"I'm just glad to be home." he said, "The usual for both of us, please."

"Uh-uh!" said Jules, "I'm paying. My idea to come here."

He shrugged cheerfully. "Okay. I never turn down a free drink." He smiled at Kayleigh, "I have good friends, huh?"

She poured the whisky and nodded. "I think good people attract good people." she said.

"They do." said Jules when he didn't reply.

They sat at a small table in a quiet corner and Dean said, "I know you came here to talk about him and I will, but do you mind if I get some alcohol into my system first? Let's talk about something else. You know, I know almost nothing about you, about who you were before the apocalypse."

"I'm not sure I remember." she said, "I was an engineer, working to improve air conditioning units. I'd never fired a gun. I worried that too much salt would kill me. Now I worry that I'll die if I have too little when the ghosts appear. Weird how completely life can change."

"Yeah, tell me about it. Where are you from?"

"Missouri, originally. Eldon. I was in Houston, Texas when the apocalypse struck. Of course, I don't know how like my versions those places are in your world. Sometimes I look online to ... Well, it's the closest I get to going home." She drank some whisky. "This world's version of me died young. Sam told me that when he gave me my IDs. He said to be careful using my real name anywhere they might check for a death certificate. It's weird to think she lived in this safe world and died so soon, when I was dodging demon and angel bombardments in a wasteland and survived."

"Is there anyone back there we need to find and bring here?"

"You still think we'll make it back?" she said.

"If or when we do, a clear list of people we need to bring over would be useful."

She shook her head. "I have nobody left there. My brother, Steve ... he was one of the first in Houston to die when the demons came. He refused to kneel, so they made an example of him. I had to tell my parents. They asked how he died and I lied and said it was fast. Only time in my adult life I ever lied to them."

"You did the right thing." said Dean.

"If I did, it was the only right thing I did at the start. Within two years of the whole mess starting, my parents were both dead too. I watched so many friends die, heard of others. Bad times."

"Sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"A long time ago. Sort of numb to it now. Mostly numb. I didn't ask you to come here because I want to talk about ... him." He noticed the sudden switch to avoid the name, for which he was grateful. "I wanted to talk about you." she said.

"About me?" he said, already not happy with the way the conversation was going.

She smiled. "Don't worry. I don't intend to add to the pressure. I've seen what angels do to their vessels and I can't even guess at how much worse it must be when an archangel is involved. The guys all think you're some kind of god. Here you are, walking and talking and looking like nothing happened."

"It's mostly an act." he admitted.

"I know, but it's an Oscar-worthy performance. I admire your strength as much as they do, but for a different reason. They think you shrugged off Michael's influence like it was nothing. I think you're so weighed down with it you're almost crushed by it, but still you just keep being you."

"On the subject of being crushed," he said, "You know him better than anyone. You saw what happened in the library. Thinking only of him, do you think I should maybe leave for a while?"

"Thinking only of him?" she said.

He signalled to Kayleigh for more drinks. "He doesn't deserve what I'm putting him through. So should I stop?"

"God, no! Look at it from his point of view. He's enduring this because he thinks it will help you. If you leave, he'll see it as his failure to do that."

Dean closed his eyes for a moment. She was right. Of course she was right. If he left the bunker, the guilt-ridden angel would assume it was his fault. He opened his eyes. "I hadn't looked at it that way." he said.

"This is hurting him and I hate that, but he's stronger now that you're back and if he thinks he has a chance of helping you to heal, he'll stick with it all the way, however much it hurts."

"He and Sam are suffering more than I am." he said.

"No, I don't think so. Sam and I have a deal, that we won't call each other on our BS, but we don't lie to each other either. I know what both of them are going through and I don't entirely know what you're going through, but I know you're deep in pain and trauma and you think you don't matter. The very fact that they are still backing you all the way says you do."

"Because of me, you had to pray and I know what that did."

"You don't." she said, "Not even he knows. I can't tell him. It's not that I don't want to. It's that I've never told anyone and I don't even know if I can say it aloud."

Dean drained his glass in one gulp and waved for more. When Kayleigh had returned to the bar he said, "Tell me."

"It's not a good thing. It won't make you see me as a good person."

"I tortured souls in Hell."

She drank deeply and then said, "It's true that none of us pray. Too dangerous and stupid to attract angelic attention."

"Preach!" he said.

She gave an uncertain half-smile. "But there's more. The last time I prayed in my world was the day my brother died."

"Understandable. Those douche-nozzles didn't save him."

Her voice shook. "The demon tore my brother into four pieces. I saw every second. I remember every second."

Dean could well understand that. He knew the feeling of watching helplessly as his brother died.

"It ripped off his arm and he was trying to break free. Both arms and one leg gone, blood was gushing out and he was still breathing ... still suffering." She angrily brushed tears from her eyes. "Hunters don't cry!" she said, half to herself.

He took her hand, gripping it firmly. "Jules, when you're with me, you cry as much as you need to."

"I prayed then." she said, "Not for an angel rescue, not for him to be saved. I prayed for my nineteen year old brother to die and to die fast. I prayed for him to die because I couldn't bear his pain."

"You prayed for mercy for him." said Dean, "I would have done the same." Her eyes thanked him. "And when you prayed to Cas, it all came flooding back."

"Yes. And I can't stop thinking about it. And I can't talk to him about it because he has so much other stuff to deal with."

"So talk to me, as much as you like, because I will never judge you ... I can't, with my history ... and I have nothing to do at the moment because I'm fit for nothing."

"That isn't true, Dean."

"Is anything?"


	20. Chapter 20

It was getting late and Dean and Jules had talked about the ghoul hunt and the bunker. Sam had been right. Whatever subject he chose, she went along with. He was glad of that, even though it underlined how vulnerable she considered him to be.

"I need to know something." he said, "How forgiving are your fellow off-worlders when it comes to me?"

"Forgiving about what?" she said.

"Oh, come on! I provided a vessel for your greatest enemy when I should have found a way to kill him. I let him gain a foothold in this world. I endangered all of you."

"That's a lot of guilt for one person." she said.

"Tip of the iceberg, sister." he said.

"You really think that's what we're all thinking?"

"Of course it is." he said.

"So Michael coming here is your fault, not Lucifer's? Because I'm pretty sure Lucifer did it."

"At the time I did what I did, Michael was weak and injured."

"And in the bunker and an archangel. Even if you'd refused, he could have killed a lot of us and we needed Lucifer dead." said Jules, "And archangels don't die easily. He would have struggled on long enough to find another vessel."

"Maybe."

"And whoever he found would have been submerged beneath his personality forever. Yes, you gave him a vessel, but you gave him the only vessel capable of fighting back."

"Which I failed to do. And maybe nobody else would have been dumb enough to say yes, even if he could find a vessel that could hold him."

"In my world, when they needed a vessel, they didn't fool around trying to look for a strong enough one. They'd just blast their way through as many as it took until they found one that survived and when it came to getting consent, they'd use any torture they had to."

"I withdrew my consent. It made no difference." he said.

"Cas doesn't understand how he stayed." she said. "Sorry." she added realising that she had said his name.

"It's fine. I need to be okay with it."

"Did Michael explain anything?"

"To me? He barely saw me as a person. He felt no need to explain anything at all. His will was all that mattered."

"He was the worst of them all. There were rumours that he killed his brother."

"More than rumours. He definitely killed Lucifer."

"Not Lucifer. In our world, Gabriel befriended humans. Michael forbade him to maintain contact with them. Then he caught him with a human lover and they say he murdered him in a fit of rage. I don't know if it was true."

In his heart, Dean knew it was true. Michael was so sure of his own righteousness, so absolute in his rules. If their Gabriel had been anything like this world's, he would have triggered Michael's fury. Michael would have done to him what he had done to the world he saw as imperfect ... what he would do to this one unless stopped. "I can believe it." he said.

"Nobody blames you for what Michael is doing." said Jules.

"I do. I always will."

"Do you blame Jack, or Sam?"

"No, of course not."

"My flyboy blames himself. He thinks he shoud have knocked you out before you could say yes."

"I gave him no chance to do that."

"And if he'd done it, he'd now be blaming himself for letting Jack and Sam die. And so would you. And he'd blame himself for you blaming yourself. Everything to do with your family is guilt-edged."

"Yeah. True. So how do we fix him?"

"There are no shortcuts. We start by fixing you. He needs to help you, Dean. So does Sam."

"Sarah thinks I can come out of this as myself. I don't see how. Everything I was would have resisted Michael. Everything I was would have fought until he had to give in."

"And you're so sure you didn't do exactly that."

"He left because the vessel was damaged."

"With a healed scar? I think he left because he'd tethered a tiger with a hair and suddenly realised he had no chance of controlling it. Michael has power ... more than any human can have, but you have far greater strength. He left because you gave him no choice."

"That's not how it feels."

She drank some whisky and sighed. "We all owe you and your brother everything. I owe you more than most. I had nothing left in that world and you brought me to this one and treated me like family."

"You are family." he said.

Suddenly, very quietly, she said, "My father's still alive in this reality."

His heart sank. She was too clever not to know that she could have no contact with those who happened to be alternate versions of her family.

"I know it's not him." she said.

"No, it's not." he said.

"But when I saw he was alive ... There's nothing for me there, just reminders of what I lost. But the bunker and the farm, they feel like home and the people there are the first family I've had in a long time. You and Sam made that family."

"And Cas." said Dean, making himself say the name.

"Yes, Cas too."

"At times, you may feel tempted to contact your father. Don't do it. It's not him. Believe me, I know the attraction of dreams and illusions, but you end as a basket case or monster bait."

"I know." she said, "He has my Dad's name, face and DNA, but that man lost his daughter a long time ago. I'm not her and he's not my father but that's okay. I have someone who loves me and I have my Winchester brothers and Mary and Jack and Bobby. I'm not alone now."

"Did you tell Cas about your father?"

"No. Do you think I should?" she asked.

"Talking is good, or so people keep telling me."

"One of the ghouls punched me in the face. He saw the bruise. I think it was more painful to him than me."

He looked closely at her face. "The bruise isn't obvious."

"He healed it."

He nodded, impressed. "You let him use angelic powers on you?"

"It makes me nervous, but it's easier every time."

"I didn't know he had healed you before."

"He hadn't, but sometimes, I let him put me to sleep. Fewer night terrors that way and it lets him know that I trust him ... which I do. I still have angel issues, but, like you, I'm working on them. Every little victory means a lot to him."

"You mean a lot to him."


	21. Chapter 21

Cas was lying on his bed in the dark. He had split his time between missing Jules, worrying about Dean and hating Michael with so much force that he worried it may have the effect of a prayer and draw Michael's attention. Then he rejected that thought with a rueful smile. Michael would never lower himself to notice the anger of one, irrelevant, corrupted angel.

The worrying about Dean part of the evening was less distressing than on previous nights. He knew Dean was with Jules and that reduced the risk of bad things happening considerably. True, if Michael came back for him, she had no chance of fighting him, but she was not helpless against the more likely dangers, like that Dean might sink into despair and try to leave them all. Jules also had a gift for making people feel they could say anything. 

It had been useful in their early days as a couple. He had known so little of how it all worked and he gathered from others that asking was inappropriate, but she said it wasn't. She had told him to ask about anything that confused him and he had done so. He could tell her things, too, things he could not have said to anyone else, except Sarah. The two women were different in many ways, but both had so much compassion and empathy for a wayward angel who needed to confess his sins and his fears. If anyone could get Dean to talk, it was her. She would make it easy for him and would never think less of him, whatever he whispered to her of doubt or shame.

He heard her footsteps in the corridor from some distance away and an ache in his chest he had not been aware of suddenly went away. She knocked and then opened the door and he turned the bedside light on. She looked tired, but lovely.

"Have you been lying here in the dark?" she said.

"It's not that dark to me." he said, "How was your night?"

"It was so good to talk to Dean." she said, "Until I got to talk to him properly, I was doubtful, but he is himself, battered and bruised to the soul, but himself."

"Good." said Cas.

"But the distrust of you, the loathing ... that's not him. You need to remember that. It comes from the trauma and from Michael's infestation. Even your name kicks off all kinds of tension and troubles, but even so, when he talked about you, it was not as an enemy or as a former friend. It was with love and concern and fear that all this can only hurt you."

He looked away as she began to change for bed.

She laughed. "Cas, you are allowed to see this. You've seen it all already."

"Oh." he said, "I wasn't sure. Didn't want to assume."

"Angels really struggle with issues around consent, don't they?" she said, with no trace of anger.

"That's why I need to be careful. I never want to assume consent that you haven't given."

She stripped to her underwear and got onto the bed beside him. "You never have, Castiel." She stroked his lapel. "Now, how do we feel about ditching the coat for the night."

"I was intending to." he said, "I was only still wearing it because ... " he stopped talking. It felt foolish to say he was wearing it for comfort when she and Dean were out. He was a celestial being, not a Labrador with separation anxiety. He took off the coat and threw it onto the chair nearest the bed.

"No need to explain." she said, slipping naturally into his embrace, "I know how bad things are for you."

"No, they're not." he said, "Dean's alive and free."

"It's fine to be happy about that and sad about the rest." she said, "It's hard for me to see the two of you like this because of that ratsucking gutter angel and his performing flying monkeys."

"You mean Michael?" he said, he had not heard even Lucifer dare such disrespect. Just the demotion to mere angel was reason enough to fear Michael's anger.

"Yes, I mean Michael. He's got Dean all tangled up in regrets and self-blame and whatever he does in this world, Dean will think it's his fault."

"Which it's not." said Cas.

"Of course it's not." said Jules.

"It's mine." he said.

She stroked his cheek and said, "No, my love, it's not and he doesn't blame you either and that's saying a lot when his instinct is to blame you for anything."

He looked into her eyes and was about to reply, when he noticed traces of tears around her eyes. "You've been crying." he said.

"Yeah. Stuff came up. With hunters talking about anything real, stuff always does."

He tried not to show his disappointment. He failed.

"What is it?" she said.

"You can't tell me?"

She kissed his lips. "Don't you have enough pain of your own to deal with?" She watched his face for a while and then smiled. "And you say you have no empathy. I should have washed my face."

"You've been around the Winchesters too long." he said. The last thing he wanted was for her to conceal the fact that she was in pain. "I can't help Dean and now I can't help you either."

"You are helping Dean. He knows how difficult this is for you. He asked if he should go away ... "

"No!" said Cas, sitting up, "Jules, he can't! I'll leave if he needs me to, but he needs to be here."

"I know. I told him not to. I told him you need him to stay."

"Thankyou."

She gently pushed him back onto the pillows. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but he needs you. I need you too and there are things I can say to you I could never say to him or anyone else, but there are things I don't think about if I can help it and what Dean and I talked about tonight ... razor blades to the soul."

He took her hand and held it to his chest. He wished he could make her understand how much he needed to be there for her no matter what the problem was.

She moved closer. In a whisper, she said, "My brother." The two words seemed heavy with loss. Suddenly, he was very grateful to Dean. If she couldn't tell him, she could at least talk to Dean and Dean, for all his contempt for emotion, could be a very good listener.

"There are things I ... It's about prayer and grief and guilt and I don't want to offload old pain onto you when you have so much already and I don't ever want you to see the darkest parts of my soul."

"I see your soul when we kiss and there is no darkness in it." he said.

"When things are right between you and Dean, tell him I said he could tell you what I said about my brother's death."

"Why not just tell me now?"

"Trust my judgement. Besides, Dean can put it better."

"Do you blame yourself for his death?" said Cas, detecting hints of guilt.

"No. No. Not really. Can we forget this for now?"

"It's hard to forget that you're unhappy."

"Old pain, old grief, old sorrow. This is something you can't heal and it's something I've been living with a long time."

"Did talking to Dean help?" he said.

"That's really all you care about, isn't it?" she said.

"You're what I care about." he said.

"It helped." she said, "It helped a lot more than I expected. I'm okay, Cas."

"Yes, we're all okay." said Cas sadly.

"When it's over, when we've helped Dean and destroyed Michael, things will be quieter. We can deal with all my ancient baggage then."

"The people I love are all very difficult to take care of." he said.

"But you still love us, right?" she said.

"Oh, yes!"

"Waggle those magic fingers. I need a dreamless sleep tonight."


	22. Chapter 22

Dean spent a few hours in his room, trying to sleep. When that failed, he spent some time searching his mind for stupid, trivial little memories and worrying when something proved to have slipped his mind. 

It was normal to lose some trivia down the cracks, he knew. He forgot things all the time before Michael came along, but any failure of his memory seemed like a failure of his mind and his identity and perhaps a defeat by Michael.

He tried to think of the things that hurt most, Charlie, Bobby, Kevin and was relieved to find that they still hurt. That meant he was human. He had begun to doubt. 

He started moving around the room, checking on his stuff. There were no insulting little notes from Sam, none of his things moved to weird places to show him he couldn't keep his brother out of his room, no dumb pranks. Sam had not believed he would come back.

Holding the cool metal of a bottle opener from the Roadhouse in his hand, he came to his senses a little. Sam had been too busy to mess with his stuff, too busy being the leader of the bunker's hunters. He had shouldered some hefty responsibilities, but of course he had never given up hope that Dean would return.

A gentle knocking interrupted his thoughts.

"Jack?" he said. He didn't want the nephilim in his room, but if Jack were seeking him out so late, it must be important.

Jack opened the door and came in. A shiver went down Dean's spine at the thought of a celestial within arm's reach, but the kid looked so unhappy that such thoughts faded quickly. "What is it, Jack?" he said.

"I know it's late, but I heard movement, so knew you were still awake."

"You also know I'm here anytime you need me." said Dean.

"You may change your mind about that." said Jack.

"Won't happen." said Dean, sitting on the bed and gesturing to the chair by the desk. Jack sat in it. "What's the problem?"

"When you were ... When you ... "

"When I was away." said Dean.

"Yes." said Jack gratefully, "When you were away, I said some things."

Dean couldn't conceal a smirk. Worlds were hanging in the balance and Jack was feeling bad about something he had said. "It's okay, Jack. We all say dumb things sometimes."

Jack stared fixedly at the corner of the bed. He would not meet Dean's eyes. "I said we should do what it took to kill Michael, even if it also ended you."

"Well done." said Dean.

"What?" said Jack. It was clearly not the response he had expected.

"At least one of you was thinking clearly. You were right. Stopping Michael means far more than saving any individual life, especially this one. I knew what I was doing when I consented to be his vessel and I accepted all risks, including that one. We're fine, kid. I'm proud of you for keeping your head."

"I never wanted you dead."

"I know you didn't." said Dean, "You wanted Michael stopped and so do I. For all the dumb things I've done and all the stupid mistakes I have yet to make, I'm sorry. Maybe, if I'd planned things better, you'd still have your grace and Michael would never have taken me over."

Jack nodded wordlessly, but seemed uncertain.

"I failed you. I failed everyone. You all deserved better." said Dean.

"No." said Jack. 

Dean felt a flash of annoyance at the angelic refusal to accept anyone else's point of view. Before he could get angry, he reminded himself that he should have no faith in his prejudiced feelings.

"It's late." he said, "You should sleep. You need to do that a lot more now."

"Thanks for understanding about what I said."

"Thanks for saying it. Cas and Sam, they're too sentimental sometimes."

"You mean they care about you." said Jack.

"So do you, but not to the point where you ignore all sense and reason."

"The killing you thing ... if I could have prevented it by anything up to and including my own death, I would have."

"You wanna know about dumb, stupid sentimental things to say? That one's near the top of the list." said Dean.

"Everyone in this bunker would have died for you." said Jack.

"I'm not worth dying for. Pick another dumb reason to throw your life away. I am not it."

When Jack had gone, Dean lay back on his bed and let the recriminations tag-team in his head. He'd screwed up and everyone had suffered; Jack most of all. The boy felt bad because of a sound strategic opinion spoken where Dean would never have heard of it, had he not confessed it himself. The kid was still ready to die for him. That felt like another failure. A flawed, stupid loser was bad enough, but one charismatic enough to drag brighter minds into self-destruction was a disaster.

He remembered Jules saying that nobody blamed him. Maybe they did and maybe they didn't. He was the only one being objective and he blamed himself. He had no choice. He got up from the bed, put on some sneakers and went to his mother's door. His knock, not intended to wake her if she happened to be asleep, was quiet enough to make Jack's seem intrusive and demanding.

The door opened. The room was well lit and Mary's desk was covered with books. Despite the late hour, she was still wearing the jeans and flannel she had worn all day. 

"Hey, Mom." he said, "Could we talk?"

She sat on the bed and he shut the door and sat beside her. "We can always talk." she said.

He suddenly felt very unsure of what he wanted to say and her smile told him she knew how hard it was just to ask for a moment of her time. He was a grown man. He had no right to disturb his mother so late with stupid, vague and weak matters that could certainly keep until morning.

"I shouldn't be bothering you so late." he said.

"You seem pretty bothered yourself. Come on, Dean. Let me be a mom to you just this once. What's on your mind?"

"Everything and nothing." he said.

"Okay." she said.

When she had first returned, she might have pushed for more. When she had discovered Chuck's books, there had been a full-on battle of Winchester wills and now she just acknowledged what he had said and awaited whatever else he might be able to say. He appreciated the change.

"I don't know what happened to me, Mom. I don't know if something broke that I can't get back or if I'm just bloodied and beat down from the fight or if he has some lasting hold over me that makes me a danger to everyone here." He looked at her and added, "I need to work it out, because if I guess wrong, everyone could die ... and I mean the whole planet." He put his head in his hands. "Trojan horse or pathetic wreck ... what's your money on?"

"Wounded hero." she said, "Dean, what happened got you all tied up in knots and this is recent trauma piled high on the old stuff, which goes back to when you were four years old. You're not pathetic. You never have been."

"How do I snap out of this? We can't afford any lame ducks."

"Like a nephilim without his powers? A hunter who's carrying around his own personal Hell and pretends he isn't? An angel who thinks everything in the world is his fault? Or were you referring to the dumb hunter who let her son become Azazel's pawn to save her boyfriend?"

"Don't talk like that." He said, looking up.

"About them, or me?"

"Winchester guilt is toxic and dangerous and stupid."

"Yes, Mr Winchester." she said.

"Michael could be here tomorrow. We don't have the luxury of time to wallow in any of it."

"Then maybe sleep would be a good idea. I could ask Cas ... "

"You bring that thing near me and I'll ... " He stopped as he heard what he was saying. "He's in my head. He's in my damn head." Another possibility occurred to him, "Or, worse, he isn't and this is just me ... the new me ...being an ass."

"Or it's late and you're running on fear and you're confused." She smiled. "Know what always used to help? Warm milk. Go to your room. I'll bring some down to you."

"I don't think it'll help." he said.

"Can it hurt?" she asked.

"I guess not."


	23. Chapter 23

At 7 am, Sam decided it was reasonable to check on Dean. He had been wanting to for hours, but the last thing he wanted was to make Dean feel he was under supervision. 7 am seemed fair. He knocked on the door of Dean's room and said, "Dean? You awake?"

There was no response. He quietly opened the door. Dean lay facing away from the door, faking sleep pretty well.

"Are you pretending to be asleep?" said Sam.

"Nah." mumbled Dean, "I'm asleep."

"Yeah. Okay. I take it you'd prefer to be left alone."

"What time is it?"

"About seven." said Sam.

"Come back in an hour, with coffee."

"You'll be awake then?"

"I may even be dressed."

"Did you sleep at all?"

Dean turned to look at him and Sam was pretty sure he had been awake all night. "Did you?" he said.

"I think so. For maybe an hour." said Sam.

"What am I gonna do with you, Sammy?"

"Drink coffee, one hour from now. Try to nap a little, at least."

"Mom fusses less than you do."

"Mom doesn't know you like I do." said Sam.

An hour later, he returned with two cups of coffee. Dean had showered and changed and was watching some godawful slasher movie. "What the Hell are you watching?" he asked.

"How can you not recognise Death Dagger 3?" said Dean, pausing it.

"How can you watch that crap?" said Sam.

"Hey, you hand over my coffee before you judge my choice of movie!" said Dean.

Sam gave him his coffee and sat at the desk with his own. "You look half-dead."

"Wow. Did you ever think of recording some affirmations?"

"How was your night?"

"Eventful and not in the fun way. Talked to Jack, talked to Mom."

"Talked or just talked?" said Sam.

Dean avoided eye contact. After too long a pause, he said, "I think I said too little to Jack, too much to Mom. Jack was feeling bad about thinking Michael should be killed at any cost. I told him it's okay and it is okay." He sounded as if he needed to convince himself of that.

Sam avoided comment. Sometimes, silence could draw Dean out a little.

He said, "Of course it's okay. I would have said the same thing."

Again, Sam chose not to respond.

"He said he would have given his own life to save mine."

"Yes, he would." said Sam, "He was looking for ways to do that."

"You stopped him, right?"

"I told him it wasn't what you would want. We all did. Dean, there is no way he would have sacrificed you."

"We all swear we'll do whatever it takes, but if it takes a life that matters to us, suddenly we're looking for another way."

"And if there's another way, that sacrifice is not whatever it takes, is it?" said Sam.

"I wanted to kill him before he was born."

"No, none of us did. We just thought we had to."

"He's alive because the angel protected him from me."

"From us and from Heaven and from Hell. Dean, we had no idea what we were dealing with."

"He knew."

It seemed incongruous. Dean spoke of "he" and "the angel" as if the words were poison to him, but seemed to be praising him. Sam watched his brother's evasive eyes, trying to guess at all the unsaid things, good and bad, that underlay the few things he could say. He kept quiet, waiting for Dean to speak again.

"That was before Michael and I already wanted to kill him." said Dean at last.

"Jack?"

"And he knows that. And he knows I came back wrong. He knows I hate his kind now."

"He doesn't have a kind. There's just one of him and you love him like a son."

"Like a son." said Dean, "Yeah, cos I'm such a great father, huh?"

"Yes, you are." said Sam.

Dean took a long, slow drink of coffee and then looked suddenly into Sam's eyes. "Just once, stop defending me. Just once, tell the truth."

"The truth is, Jack adores and idolises you. So did Ben. So do I, now and always."

Dean spoke as if the words were being dredged from deep in his gut and were studded with barbs. "Every life he takes, every atrocity he commits, every evil thing he does, I gave him a chance to do." 

"Jack?" said Sam, genuinely befuddled.

"Michael." said Dean.

"You can't blame yourself."

"So who should I blame? Jack? You? The angel?"

"How about Lucifer?" said Sam.

Dean threw the cup at the wall and it broke into three pieces. "Don't say that name. Don't think it!"

"Aren't I supposed to be the one that feels that way?"

"You think I can forget what he did to you? You think I ever will?"

"He's dead, Dean. You killed him."

"Not soon enough." said Dean. He stood up and headed for the broken china.

"Stop!" said Sam, not wanting him near any sharp objects, "Leave that. I'll clean it up later."

"And that dumbass let him out of the cage."

"Dean, that was a long time ago."

"I hate him."

"Lucifer or Cas?"

"What's the difference?" said Dean. He went and stood in front of the mirror, staring into his own eyes as if looking for a friend there. Then he turned away, seemingly disappointed. "I didn't mean that." he said.

"I know that." said Sam, "I'm glad you know it too."

Dean went to the jacket that was hanging on the door. He reached into a pocket and took out a handful of bullets. "You should have these." he said.

"What for?" said Sam as he took them, but then he recognised what they were. "Angel killing bullets?"

Dean handed over his angel blade too. "In case I lose it completely. I don't trust him to defend himself."

"Because you know he'd rather die than kill you."

"Exactly. He's dumb enough."

"Dean, he's one of us. If you don't trust him to defend himself, it's because you know he's your friend, so why can't you just be his friend?"

"Because I don't trust him." said Dean.

Sam showed him the bullets. "And this makes it pretty clear that you don't trust yourself either."

"Of course I don't. I'm crazy, I'm corrupted or I'm compromised. Locking me up wouldn't be a bad idea."

"It sounds like a terrible idea to me." said Sam.

"Well, for now, I'm staying here. Close the door on your way out." 

Sam gathered the broken bits of the coffee cup and headed for the door. "If you need anything ... "

"Yeah, I know."


	24. Chapter 24

Sam decided to have breakfast with his mother. She smiled at his offer to cook and said, "You're so much better at that than I am."

"You have other skills." he said, gathering eggs and bacon. The bacon seemed necessary, because of what Dean had said about his healthy eating. He knew it was true, but he had no plans to tell Dean how right he had been. "Dean says you guys talked last night."

"Hmm." she said, "How is he this morning?"

"Not good. I'd hoped some time away from the bunker and a chat with Jules might help, but he seems worse today."

"He was having trouble sleeping. I gave him warm milk, but chloroform might have been better. His mind just keeps recycling the same fear and guilt. He won't give himself a moment to recover. Jules was a good idea. We talked a lot when I was in their world. She's a good listener."

"So is Dean. They both listen to avoid talking. I kinda hoped that they might say things to each other they can't say to us."

Mary looked at him closely. "You didn't sleep either, did you?"

"I slept. A little." he said, "It's amazing how little sleep I need. How about you?"

"I never could sleep when one of my boys was in pain. Maybe, if we got him to stay at the farm with Sarah for a few days ... "

"He already worries that he can't be trusted. I even suggest that and he'll think I don't trust him around the bunker."

"The paranoia is frightening." she said.

"But understandable. It's just a pity it mostly focuses on Cas and Jack, two of the people he loves most."

"At least he trusts you and me." she said.

"It's Cas he needs most. One meeting in their heads and he could feel a lot better. I know he misses that connection, but now its all wrapped up in this fear of angels. When the link started, it scared them both, but they came to love it and to use it as a place to talk without distractions and with a degree of honesty. Now, when he needs it most, he doesn't have it."

"He still has you." she said.

He focused on the frying food. He was tired and his heart ached to help Dean, but it seemed to get harder every day. The more Dean needed him, the more he would back away, afraid to ask for support when he should know he never needed to ask.

When he glanced at his mother, she was looking at him, worried. He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way. ""He still has me." he said.

"And you both have me. I hope you remember that."

"I think you helped him last night."

"You said he was worse this morning."

"Yes, but I think he was always going to be. Sleepless nights are never a good thing for him. You're right, his mind just never slows down or turns off."

"He came to talk to me last night. I have to say, that felt like a step forward."

"And he told me that he'd talked to you, which also feels good." he said, "I'm not saying it's all bad. Sometimes I wish I'd been born first, because then he wouldn't feel he has to protect his little brother."

"He tries to protect me."

Sam served up the food. He didn't have much of an appetite, but she needed to see him eat, so he put on a good perfomance. "To be honest, he tried to protect Dad, too. He tries to protect everyone but himself. He's still trying to protect Cas and he thinks he hates him. He gave me these." He showed her the angel killing bullets.

"That proves he is in control. He's afraid Michael still has some hold on him."

"All I see is Dean; scarred and suffering, but Dean." He hesitated, not wanting to discuss his own experiences, but those connected with Dean needed to know. "Having an archangel in control ... it makes you feel helpless, powerless and defeated. Those feelings linger for a long time afterwards."

"How long?" she said.

"A decade and counting." he said. He looked into her eyes and flinched from the pain he saw there, the reflection of his own. She would never know the details, he would never speak them aloud to Dean, let alone to her, but she could see how deep the pain went and how permanent it was.

"Sam, I am so sorry." she said.

"Don't be." he said, "It's good that I went through it, because now I can help him, if he'll let me." He tried to be more positive. "I think he's trying. Yesterday, out on the road, it was like there were two Deans, one trying so hard to talk to me and the other trying desperately to shut him up."

"Who was winning?" she said.

"Probably too early to tell, but I'm not giving up on him, not ever."

"Good. Neither am I." she said.

Cas appeared in the doorway. "Where's Dean?" he said.

"In his room." said Sam, "Probably best to give him some space today. He had a rough night and he's even less angel-friendly this morning."

Cas nodded. "How specific is it?"

"All celestials, including Jack," said Sam, "But he got especially angry when I mentioned Lucifer."

"Well, at least that comes from Dean, not Michael. He'll never stop hating what Lucifer did to you."

"He doesn't know most of it." said Sam.

"You think that makes it easier for him to forgive?"

"Michael hated Lucifer too."

"Not so much. Not so deeply. Nobody loves or hates as deeply as Dean. Trust me, I have been on the receiving end of both."

"He doesn't hate you. He's confused."

"He hates me." said Cas, "It's not his choice or his fault, but he does. Perhaps we could do some combat training and he could channel some of that aggression."

"Into beating you to a pulp?" said Sam.

"He can hit me as hard as he likes. I can take it. It won't even hurt."

"Maybe not physically," said Sam, "But it would hurt both of you in other ways."

Cas gave him a look. "You're forgetting. I'm not the one falling apart."

"Yeah, you're the pinnacle of stability and calm." said Sam.

"Whatever else I am or have tried to be, I am still an angel."

"And still not getting it. This isn't gonna be fixed by you sacrificing yourself, okay? Not even a little bit. Dean will snap out of this eventually and when he does, he'll feel bad for every little way he hurt you, every cruel or unkind thing he said or thought. And if violence is involved, it'll be worse for him. Is that what you want, Cas?"

He knew he had spoken too harshly. The look in Castiel's eyes turned to the usual one of guilt and doubt.

"No," he said quietly, "That's not what I want."

"I'm sorry." said Sam, "Too little sleep, too many problems. Look, let's meet at the Krak in an hour and talk this through properly."

"No. I can't." said Cas.

"Why not, Castiel?" said Mary.

"I just can't." said Cas, "You wouldn't understand. I don't understand." He looked around anxiously and then said, "I need to ... not be here." and hurried out of the room.

"You should talk to Sarah." said Mary.

Sam nodded. "About both of them. Can I take your wheels? Dean will freak out if his car is missing."

"Of course." she said, "Are you okay to drive?"

"Believe me, I've driven on less sleep."

"That somehow doesn't give me confidence. Maybe we should go together."

"Someone needs to keep an eye on Dean."

"I'll ask Jules. Maybe it will be good for him to find we both went out. He'll feel we trust him."


	25. Chapter 25

Before leaving the bunker, Sam and Mary found Jack and Sam said, "Jack, we're going out for a while. I want you to find Cas and stay close to him."

"For what?" said Jack.

"Mutual protection. Mutual support. Try to keep out of Dean's way. Try to make sure Cas does too."

"I thought the idea was ... "

"Cas and Dean are both in a dangerous frame of mind. Just for today, limit their contact if you can. I know it's a lot to lay on you ... "

"No. It's fine. Good to have something useful I can do." said Jack, "Where will you be?"

"Sarah's." said Sam, "But don't tell the others unless you have to."

"Okay." said Jack.

"And be kind to Cas and Dean. They both feel like crap."

"What's happened?" said Jack.

"Dean just had a bad night. It'll be okay. I just want to avoid some confrontation between them making it worse."

"You think he'll hurt Castiel?"

"I think Cas could be hurt by a doubtful look and Dean is full-on paranoid about angels."

Jack nodded. "I'll do what I can."

"We can always count on you, Jack." said Mary and Jack smiled.

On the way to Ionia, Mary drove. Her driving style was much the same as Dean's and the accompanying music, Seger, Springsteen, Zeppelin and Dire Straits, would have met with his approval.

"How are you doing, Sam?" she asked when they were about halfway there, "And a good son would not throw his mother a non-answer like okay."

He smiled. "I don't know that I've ever been a good son. A good brother, most of the time, but not a good son."

"Then, isn't it time you made the effort?" she said.

"Look, I know I seem a little wrecked, but I've been a little wrecked for years. Yes, I have issues, Hell-related and not, but I deal with them. You don't need to worry about me."

"It's not optional, Sam. I'm your mother."

"Think of us as veterans of a long, unending war. Field medicine is all there is. The wounds aren't healed, just patched up, so we can go on fighting. So yes, in bad weather, I get some pain, but I know how to dull it down and get on with what we need to do. What Dean's going through is different. He was there for me when Hell fallout drove me crazy. I'll be there for him for this Michael-related stuff."

"Sarah worries about this habit of pushing your needs aside."

"I don't do that." he said, "Not anymore. I just need Dean to be himself again more than I need to focus on self-pity."

She shot him a glance. "Self-pity?"

He shrugged. "It's not like anything can be changed now. It's part of me. And maybe that's okay. At least I can begin to understand what Dean's suffering."

"You know what Dean would say to that."

"I do." he admitted.

"And Sarah."

"Yup."

"And you know they'd both be right."

"They always are, but the things in my head are staying there. I can't get rid of them. Not even sure I could adapt to life without them now. We can help Dean. That's what matters."

"That's a very sweet way of saying, 'Back off, Mom.'" she said.

"Any chance you can get Sarah to back off too?" he said.

"I doubt it. You should call her. Let her know we're coming and why."

When they arrived at the farm, Sarah hurried out to greet them. She hugged Mary and then turned to smile at Sam. "I'm glad you're here."

He took her hands and kissed her forehead. "I could really use your help. Dean is in freefall and I don't know what to do."

She took each of them by the arm. "Let's go inside and we can work this out together. I know the situation seems terrible, but I spoke to Dean yesterday and I know he is going to work his way through this."

"He's not sleeping." said Sam, "I know he's going through Hell and he's trying to handle it alone."

"Of course he is." said Sarah.

In the parlour, they sat close together, conspirators for Dean. Sam felt better just knowing Sarah was involved. She understood Dean. She understood trauma. As they talked about the past twenty-four hours, Dean's attempts to talk and equally determined attempts not to burden others, their feelings of helplessness and Cas falling so easily into his old habits of self-blame and self-sacrifice, Sarah listened and nodded and understood.

She spent a long time listening, ot rushing to offer her own opinions or telling Sam where he had gone wrong. Just telling her everything made him feel better, just being able to say how hard it was to see Dean so tormented and to see him tormenting Cas, knowing that the real Dean, buried under that wounded paranoid was suffering along with him, hating himself for hurting his friend.

At last, it was all told. He felt he had briefed her on every moment. Even then, she considered carefully before she said, "That he tried to talk to you about it so soon has to be good."

"I agree." he said, "But he backs off so fast, clams up instantly."

"He's had a lot of practice." she said.

"What do I do? Push him to talk? Leave him alone and hope he comes to me? What would you do?"

"Dean was very honest with me when we talked. He told me he felt corrupted and defiled by Michael. He's ashamed that he ever let Michael take control and he hates the fact that he could not cast him out. Whenever Dean thinks about Michael, all the shame is stirred up and he is afraid to share that with you, in case you are as disgusted by him as he is. Do you know that the one thing he has to cling to is that you still believe in him?"

"I'll always believe in him." said Sam.

"His biggest fear is that he'll see in your eyes the same look of contempt he sees in the mirror. When he tries to talk to you, he has to push through that deep-rooted, terrible fear."

Sam found himself nodding. That, he could understand. So often, he had held his own tongue for fear that what he said might make Dean think less of him, that he could disappoint the one person whose opinion of him had value.

Sarah smiled at him, reading his mind effortlessly, as usual. For once, it was welcome, saving him the effort of putting his thoughts into words. "You'll always understand him better than any of us." she said, "You've been watching him struggle through this charade of invulnerability since you were children."

Sam saw his mother bite her lip and he wished he had come alone.

Sarah noticed the quick glance in Mary's direction. "Sam, the past, we can't change, but talking honestly about it could save the future."

"Yes." he said.

"And it's not as if anyone in this room doesn't know you picked up all your tricks from him."

"That's true." said his mother.


	26. Chapter 26

Cas had been walking in the trees above the bunker for some time, feeling angry and resentful and alone and knowing all the time that these feelings were distractions, refuges, from the void in his heart.

He had told himself all along that nothing mattered but getting Dean back. He had told himself, almost convinced himself, that he could face anything that came after, even if Dean were greatly changed. It turned out not to be true. He could do nothing to help Dean. Even letting Dean unleash his anger on him was not going to help. He was helpless in the face of Dean's current pain and all he could do was stand by, pretending the hatred in Dean's eyes didn't hurt him, until Dean overcame it on his own, if he could.

"I've been looking for you." said Jack, coming towards him.

"Why? What's happened?" said Cas.

"Nothing." said Jack.

"Have you seen Dean?" said Cas.

"No. He's still in his room."

"Maybe, I should check on him."

"No. I think we should just leave him to rest."

"I doubt he's getting a lot of rest." said Cas.

"For now, leave him. Sam thinks it's best."

Cas felt his heart sink. Another reminder that Sam did not think he could be of use. The fact that he was probably right offered no comfort.

"Castiel?" said Jack.

"We'll do what Sam says, obviously." said Cas, "You should go."

"Why?" said Jack, looking as hurt as Cas felt. That made it worse, seeing Jack wounded because he could not master his own sense of injury.

"I have things to do." he said.

"Oh."

"Jules and I are working on something." he said. He was a bad liar and he could see Jack did not believe him. Nevertheless, the nephilim turned and headed back to the bunker.

Cas sent a text to Jules. "Meet me in our room."

The reply was two letters, "OK"

By the time he got to their room, Jules was waiting for him. She took one look at his face and hugged him before closing the door firmly behind him. "It's okay," she said, "I don't need details. Just tell me what you need."

"I ... I need you." he said.

She took off his coat and hung it on the door. 

"I don't want to ask you for anything, when I give so little, but you're my peace and I need some peace right now. I feel alone, very alone."

She took off his tie. "You're not alone."

"We can't ... "

"No, I know we can't. You're not ready, but you like a nice, full-body hug, don't you?"

"I do." he said, as she led him over to the bed. He got onto it first and she snuggled up against him. The ache in his chest began to fade and the terrible sense of isolation disappeared. The warmth of her body against his was more than physical. He could feel her love for him, her longing to take away his emptiness and heal his broken heart.

She kissed his neck and then whispered in his ear, "You're not alone, my love. I'm here. I'll stay here."

"Even when we find a way back to your world?"

"You are my world." she said.

"I'm serious." he said.

"So am I. You feel like nobody's priority, but you will always be mine." She took his hand, her fingers entwining with his. For a moment, it actually hurt, reminding him of millions of years alone, but then he felt the beauty of it, her touch and her promise.

"Dean ... " he began.

She waited for more, but there was nothing he could say. No words came to him. During the silence, he was acutely aware of her fingers on his, her breath on his skin. She brought peace to his essence and the usual physical sensations and desires to his vessel. 

He wished he could let go of his fears and make love to her, but in the current situation, that would be little better than using her as another distraction and she deserved better than that. His libidinous vessel was putting thoughts in his head and they were good thoughts, but a better thought was that she still loved him. 

He thought she would even love him if she knew that a rogue, human part of his mind, too closely tethered to his vessel, was imagining a much more carnal connection. She would understand. She seemed to understand everything.

"Whatever Dean said or did, it wasn't him." she said.

"Sam says I should avoid him. He hates angels more today. Yesterday was bad enough. If he's getting worse, instead of better ... "

"It's how the human mind works." she said, "When you're working through stuff, things get pretty intense. It means he's confronting it. When did Dean last lose a confrontation?"

"I'm not sure he wants to win this one. He's been angry with me before. He bears grudges."

"We talked a lot at the bar, last night. Whatever grudges he has, they're not with you. The easiest thing would be to keep angels out of his life, send you and Jack to the farm and just avoid the issue. He's good at avoidance. He's fighting this for you. You can see what it's doing to him and he is doing it anyway because you matter to him."

"I thought I was stronger than this." he said.

"You're as strong as he is." she said.

"I'm not even close. I'm afraid, all the time. Sam asked me to use the mind link with him and I couldn't."

"Why not?" she said.

He didn't think he knew and was surprised to hear himself answer, "Too powerful a reminder of what I've lost, but if I keep refusing, I'll lose it with Sam too. Dean will never want the link back. Things between us will never be the same again."

"Before you met Dean, did you ever think anything would change?" she asked.

"No, never. I certainly never thought a human would change me."

"So don't assume your fears are infallible prophecy. Life is unpredictable. Friendship is powerful. Don't give up hope. Trust Dean. When has that ever been the wrong choice?"

"A few times, maybe, but not often."

She kissed him. He hugged her more tightly. "I love you." she said.

"I love you too." he replied, "Can we stay here for a while, like this?"

"We can stay here all day, if you like." she said, "I'd do anything to help. I know how bad this is for you."

"At some point, I have to face Dean again and see that hatred and anger in his eyes."

"All I see there is pain."

"It's not you he hates." said Cas.


	27. Chapter 27

"I think you've mostly been doing the right thing." said Sarah, making Sam feel much better, though he was waiting for the but.

"It's wise not to put too much pressure on him for now." she went on, "We don't know what he can take. Only he knows that. He knows you're both ready to listen to him and he knows that Castiel understands the situation."

"The problem is that Castiel is still hurt by it." said Sam.

"Yes. I share your concerns about Castiel. He's not emotionally self-aware enough to handle this safely. Castiel will be telling you he is fine and believing it when he is slowly sinking into despair. Because of that, he can go right from sincerely believing he can cope to sudden, self-destructive behaviour before anyone sees a problem."

"And even though he knows Dean is out of his head, every negative thing Dean says, he hears and believes." said Sam.

"I wish he accepted the good things so easily." said Sarah.

"Why doesn't he?" said Mary, "Aren't angels supposed to understand truth?"

"Angels are supposed to do a lot of things he doesn't do and they aren't supposed to do a lot of things he does. I wouldn't say it to him, but I sometimes wonder if he counts as an angel at all now. Jules and I see it as an evolution, but he is afraid of it."

"He spent billions of years knowing exactly what he was," said Sam, "And now he doesn't know. On good days, that excites him, but good days have been few and far between recently. He spends a lot of time trapped in an existential crisis and Dean used to be able to help him through those, but now he feels like Dean has abandoned him."

"I'm as worried as you are." said Sarah, "Normally, I'd suggest sending him here, but he and Dean need to work through this together. I hate to add another burden to your already ... "

"No. Add burdens." said Sam, "Weigh me down until I can barely stand. I'll crawl if I have to. I need to do this, for both of them. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't do everything in my power to save them."

"I feel much the same way about you." said Sarah, "So I trust you will be equally willing to let me help you."

"Not now." he said, "When they're okay. Then we can do anything you like about me."

"You only say that because you don't believe they will ever be okay." said Sarah, with a twinkle in her eye, "But I know the day will come and I will hold you to your promise, made in the presence of your mother."

"I heard it." said Mary.

"Can we keep to the subject, please?" said Sam.

"May I suggest something you may not have considered?" said Sarah.

"Please do. It's why we came." he said.

"Small things can make a big difference. When your brother came to me, before Michael, to deal with some of that old trauma, I had him climbing trees and helping in the kitchen. I gave him a chance to live out the things he could have done, if he hadn't had to grow up in motel rooms, with a baby brother to care for and a wounded father who didn't know what to do."

"You mean, instead of trying to get him to talk, get him to do things that give him comfort?"

"Yes and maybe even that give him joy. But not just things to do, Sam, revive his feelings of being your brother and Mary, let him feel like a son. He feels isolated and alone, afraid of judgement, especially his own, unworthy of kindness. He'll be afraid of spending time with anyone he cares about, afraid that you will reject him or be angry with him or think he's weak or worthless."

"How does he still think we could see him that way?" said Sam.

"The same way you're afraid to fail him. It won't be easy to convince him to be around people and the more he loves those people, the harder it may be, but he needs your love. He needs to be included in foolish, unimportant things. Then, maybe, he'll start to open up a little more about the big stuff."

"I hope so." said Mary.

"But when he does, it'll hurt you and him. You may want him to shut up. You may want to walk away. That's natural and normal, but if you do, he'll feel judged and rejected and betrayed and you may never get him to try again."

"I won't do that. I will never do that." said Sam.

She smiled. "No, you won't, will you?"

"There's nothing he can say that I can't hear. I'll listen. I'll listen if listening becomes the worst torture I ever experience, because he'd do the same for me. You know what? If I asked him right now, to listen to everything that happened in Hell, even with everything he's dealing with, he would. I know he would."

"You've had worse ideas." said Sarah.

"I didn't mean I was going to, just that I could. The offer has always been there. It always will be. Dean has never backed down from anything that could help me, even when it cost him his soul."

"You feel you owe him?" said Sarah.

"No. Alright, yes, but that's not what this is about. Every time I ever stumbled, every time my gun jammed or my knife got knocked aside, every time my courage failed or I screwed up, every time I chose something dumb or evil or just pointless, he was there to pull me out of the disaster. He might be pissed as hell, but he was there. I'm never walking away. I will never leave him in pain because it's easier than standing beside him. The only thing I've feared, for years, now, is letting him down."

"I am so proud of you." said his mother.

He smiled at her. "Be proud of him, Mom. This devotion is deserved."000000000000000000


	28. Chapter 28

Dean had been in his room for several hours and he was beginning to feel hungry. He was sure Sam and Mary would be in the kitchen or library. Jack and Cas could be too. It seemed like a better idea to visit his stash of snacks in the garage. 

He first checked outside the door. Cas sometimes stood guard and he wanted no interaction with him right now. The corridor was empty, but he knew Cas could be invisible when he chose to be. "Hey, dumbass." he whispered. There was no reply and no sudden manifestation of a pissed-off angel, so he stepped out of the door and went quickly to the garage.

On arrival, he froze. Jack was near the car. Jack was touching the car. The damn nephilim had hands on his car! "Step away from the car!" he yelled.

Jack stepped back. He looked guilty.

"What are you doing to my car?" Dean demanded.

Lucifer's son said, "Nothing." but his voice shook. He was lying.

"Who told you to touch my car?" said Dean, "Did Cas send you to tamper with it?"

The nephilim looked terrified, as well he might. He had no powers to protect him. He should have waited for his grace to return before getting up to whatever sabotage he was doing.

"I was cleaning it." he said.

"What?" said Dean. The tone was wrong. The answer prosaic, even justifiable. The look in the kid's eyes held no guilt, only fear. It was the look a pre-school child might give a psychotic adult who was snarling at him for no reason. Dean felt sick. He now saw the bucket on the floor.

"When you were away, I cleaned the Impala every week." said Jack, still looking and sounding frightened, "I didn't want you to come back and find her covered in dust."

Dean went towards him. When he was close to the boy, he raised a hand in apology and Jack flinched.

"You're scared of me?" said Dean.

"No." said Jack, visibly trying to hide his fear.

"You are. You're scared of me."

"Not you, Dean. This is not you. This is from Michael and it scares me, but I will never be afraid of you."

Dean stepped back, wondering how the kid, at a time like this, could still make that distinction. He wasn't even sure that he could. "I'm sorry." he said.

"It's fine." said Jack, "I should have asked before I cleaned the car."

"I would never hurt you, Jack. I'll kill anyone who tries to hurt you."

A smile struggled to show itself, but Jack was still afraid. He could hardly have picked a less deserving target for his insanely paranoid rage.

"I never should've yelled. I had a bad night. I'm ... "

"I should have asked." said Jack, "The weekly clean just became a habit. I needed to do something. Life as a mascot ... "

A memory flashed through his mind of little Sammy, saying, "I wanna be a hunter, not your dumb mascot!" He had said similar things to his father, begging to be useful, to be a Winchester. He wanted to hug the kid. He wanted to hug all three of them. Jack needed reassurance and love and he couldn't give it, because Jack was half archangel. Jack was half Lucifer. He loved the kid like his own son, but his flesh crawled at the thought of touching him.

"Okay," said Dean, "I need to get out of here."

"You can't!" said Jack and anger flared in Dean again.

"What am I? A prisoner?"

"No! Dean, I just mean this is your home and leaving here to go off alone ... " Jack laid his hand on Dean's arm. 

Dean instantly shook him loose. "Don't touch me! Don't ever touch me!" He wanted to knock the abomination to the ground. Jack, he told himself. It was Jack. It was a helpless, very human, innocent.

"I'm sorry." said Jack, the words barely audible.

"No, I'm sorry. This is why I need to get away. If I don't, I'll hurt you or Cas."

"If you leave, you'll be hurting yourself."

"Yeah, maybe, but I deserve it."

"No, you don't." said Jack.

"I can't be around celestials. I thought I could control this, but I can't." said Dean.

"If you really want to go, I have no way to stop you, but I know it's a mistake. I know it won't help anyone."

"Michael has twisted me into something I don't wanna be." said Dean, "And it makes me dangerous to everyone I care about."

"You could have hit me. You could have killed me. Without my powers, I can't even fight weak humans. You controlled the urge to harm me."

Dean noticed the absence of his mother's car. "Where's Mom?" he said.

"She and Sam went out."

"Where?" said Dean.

"To see Sarah."

"To talk about me?" said Dean. 

"Is that bad? Don't you need her help?" said Jack.

"If I stay here, this will happen again." said Dean.

"Yes." said Jack, looking oddly happy about it.

"And I might kill you."

"You won't, because this will happen again. You'll overcome the anger and remember that I am not your enemy. Even if I had my full powers, I would never use them against you."

"Even just now?"

"As a last resort, I might have put you to sleep, but hurt you? No."

"I can't be sure I won't harm you. For that reason alone, I have no right to stay in the bunker."

"Do I need to beg?" said Jack.

"I can't stay. I should go before Sam and Mom come back. Tell them ... "

"Dean, please, give us more time!"

"You're my family and unless I can get over this, I can only ever be a threat to you."

"How will you get over it alone? You think you can drown it in whisky?"

"I think it's worth a try."

"You think that's a better way than Sarah can come up with?" said Jack.

Dean got into the car. "Shut up." he said.

"Is that from you or from Michael?"

"Don't know, don't care. I'll see you around, kid." He put the key in the ignition and turned it.

Jack got in the way and stood there. "Please, Dean."

"You know, right now, a substantial part of my brain is fine with driving right over you." he said.

"That's okay." said Jack, "I'm relying on your heart, which is 100% Winchester."

Dean turned the key back and removed it. "If I stay," he said, "Do we need to tell the others any of this happened?"

Jack looked thoughtful. "If I say nothing and then you leave anyway, they'll blame me. I'm not comfortable with that. I mean, Winchesters ... they can be a little irrational." He looked meaningfully at Dean.

"What if I were to promise to stay?" said Dean, "Can we then forget this little incident?"

Jack smiled. "Incident?" he said, "I'm glad you're here. I wanted to ask how the car looks."

Dean got out and examined her carefully. "She looks great. You've done a great job, apart from the wheels."

"Yeah, got distracted." said Jack, "I'll do those now."

He had every right to hold Dean in contempt, to be angry and to go to the others with loud complaints at the injustice of it all. Dean would have. Instead, the kid was offering him a do-over. It was an undeserved mercy.

"Jack ... " said Dean, he struggled for a second and then said, "Thanks."

"It's okay." said Jack, "I enjoy it. And someone had to take care of her when you couldn't." His eyes signalled that he knew what Dean had really been thanking him for. "I'll always do what I can." he said.

"You're a good kid." said Dean, wishing he could give Jack the hug he needed. "I'm hungry." he said, "If Mom and Sam are out, I guess I can eat in the kitchen. Cas isn't there, is he?"

"I think Cas and Jules are working on something together. That usually means library or archives."

Suspicion fell on Dean's chest like a lead weight. "What are they working on?" he said.

Jack clearly heard the paranoia creeping back into his voice. "Dean, don't you even trust Jules now?"

"Of course I do." he said, "I was just curious."

"All they ever work on is a way to defeat Michael, which is what we all want."

"Yeah." said Dean, trying to look untroubled. "So, breakfast. Look, Jack ... "

Jack nodded. "I'll do a good job on the car."


	29. Chapter 29

When Sam and Mary returned, Jack was waiting for them in the garage. He looked worried.

"Problem?" said Sam.

"No, everything's fine." said Jack, his grave look and anxious voice reminding Sam why he would never excel at poker.

"Where's Cas?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know? I told you to stay with him."

"He's working with Jules on something. Don't know what. Don't know where."

"Have you tried their room?" said Sam.

"No. Cas really doesn't like me going there."

"Since when?"

"A few weeks."

Sam nodded. He was fairly sure Cas and Jules had not yet had sex, but their relationship was becoming sufficiently intense to make the lights flicker at times and he could understand why privacy had suddenly become important. "Has there been any trouble between him and Dean?" he asked.

"No. Dean only came out of his room a short time ago. He's in the kitchen."

"Alone?" said Sam.

"I think so."

"Mom, you wanna go and handle that?"

"Okay." she said, leaving.

When she had gone, Sam says, "Whatever it is, you can tell me, Jack, I really need to know."

"Everything's fine." said Jack again. A few seconds of eye contact forced more out of him. "But Dean's tired and stressed." he said.

"Yeah, I know. Did he say something to you, Jack?"

"He said I'd done a great job cleaning his car." said Jack, his eyes pleading for no more questions. Sam remembered keeping Dean's secrets from their father, the occasional lapse in courage, the even rarer breach of the rules. He remembered the misery of choosing between lying to his father and betraying his brother and knew that only a monster would put that pressure on Jack.

"It's fine." he said, "I don't want you to break a confidence."

"Thanks. It really is okay. Things happened, but now Dean is calm and everything is okay."

"I'm not doing a great job of protecting you and Cas." said Sam.

"You really don't need to protect me. Dean wouldn't hurt me." said Jack, "By the way, he knows where you two were. He asked. It seemed like a bad idea to keep it from him. He's already sure we're plotting against him. Honest felt safest."

"Yeah, that's probably for the best." said Sam, "I'd better check on him. Thanks for everything, Jack."

When he got to the kitchen, Dean and Mary were arguing over a crossword. That was comfortingly routine. "Hey." said Sam.

"Hey." said Dean. Brief, steady eye contact, sufficient to look normal, not enough to make it obvious that it was deliberate, to anyone but Sam.

"Where's Cas?" said Sam, testing the water.

"How should I know? He's not my pet."

"Just thought you might have seen him." said Sam.

"Well, I haven't. Jack said he and Jules are skulking around in the archives together."

"Jack said that?" said Sam.

"Yes." said Dean. He snatched the newspaper from his mother and crossed out the answer she had just added. "No, Mom. That screws up seven down."

"It's affidavit." said Sam after a glance at the clue.

Dean squinted at it for a moment. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"No you didn't!" said his mother.

Sam looked at his mother and then at the door. Dean wasn't going to say anything with her around. She nodded and left.

"Uh-oh." said Dean.

"What?" said Sam.

"Try to remember, I'm insane, not dumb. What's on your mind, little brother?"

"You're not insane." said Sam.

"Oh great. Now you're reassuring me. You must really think I've lost it."

"I'm not reassuring you, you jerk. I'm stating a fact." He didn't state the next fact to come to mind, that Dean looked haunted, guilty.

"So, what did Sarah say?" said Dean.

"Sarah said a lot."

"But you won't tell me what?"

"She mostly said not to put you under more pressure, so I'm trying not to, but I'm worried about you, so sometimes I may get it wrong."

Dean looked at him, confused. Clearly, he had not expected anything close to a straight answer. "Did Sarah make any suggestions for Jack?"

"In what sense?" said Sam.

"You know in what sense." said Dean, "Did she think we should send him to the farm?"

"No."

"Do you?"

"What happened while we were out?" 

"Nothing and I want it to stay that way. Even if Cas can understand and handle this, Jack is just a kid. He's a kid who has enough to think about."

Sam didn't believe for a second that nothing had happened, but, mindful of his brother's fragile mental state, he decided not to push it. "I think Jack needs Cas." he said.

"Then maybe we should send both of them."

"You wanted Cas here." Sam reminded him.

"What I want is irrelevant. They don't deserve this."

"You said nothing happened." said Sam.

"But something could. One lapse in concentration and ... I'm trying to take responsibility here."

"I know you are." said Sam, "Sarah said we shouldn't send Cas to the farm because you and he need to work through this together. Jack needs to help too, I think. Let's do this as a family."

"I'm not sure they still see me as family." said Dean.

"You're not sure of anything."

Dean finally cracked a smile. "True."

"It's only been a couple of days. Don't overthink things just yet."

"In a couple of days, I have already said things I shouldn't." said Dean, "You're all putting up with a lot from me, but we both know things can be said that never get unsaid. Things can come out in a moment of anger that wound to the heart. All I got right now is moments of anger. Sooner or later ... "

"Dean, we can take it."

"No. You can't. Jack's a kid. Cas nearly killed himself when he thought I was dead. I have three people in this family who can't take it and guess what, I am currently predisposed to want to hurt two of them. The third, by the way, I hurt anyway, every time he's in range when I happen to need to lash out."

"We can take it." Sam repeated.

"You shouldn't have to."

"No, we shouldn't and when we find Michael, we'll take it out of his ass, but not yours, okay? Because none of this is you."

"I let him in." said Dean.

Sam hated the look in Dean's eyes, the shame he couldn't shake off, the guilt, the self-loathing. He saw himself as poisonous, a danger to anyone stupid enough to love him. There was a greyness to his face, a pallor only partially from lack of sleep. He felt as if Dean were dying and had been for years. 

He needed some way to get through that wall around Dean. He was trapped in some tiny tower, cold and dark, when outside, there was light and love and warmth and he kept on strengthening the walls, as afraid of that love as he was afraid of finding it gone. Show him anger, hatred, contempt ... you couldn't ever hate him more than he hated himself. 

Love and kindness and sympathy tormented him, because he didn't know how to accept them, because the mother who represented all of them had been torn out of his life when he was too young to grasp that it wasn't his fault. 

He hadn't lost the ability to love. He had poured love into the cracked heart of his father and the bottomless well that was his brother's heart. All his life, though, he had found it impossible to receive love, at least in any overt form. Sam had found he had to be creative. The language of brotherly love was in burgers brought to motel rooms, fights in parking lots and ritual insults, like bitch and jerk. Dean knew, after all these years, the depth and strength of Sam's unbreakable love and Sam was glad of that, but it broke his heart afresh every day that Dean had no idea how he was worthy of such love.

"Hey, I just had a dumb idea." said Sam, hoping Dean couldn't hear in his voice how close he was to tears.

"Yeah?" said Dean, "Dumber than trying to fix me?"

"Oh, yeah. Much dumber. Let's just drive to the middle of nowhere tonight and light a fire and toast marshmallows and tell dumb stories. You, me and Jack."

"Jack won't wanna come."

"If he does, will you?" said Sam.

"What about Cas?"

"You think about Cas. If you want him to come, we'll ask him. I'm gonna leave you in peace now, okay?"

"Okay," said Dean, "Okay. I'll think."

"Good. You do that." said Sam. He looked at the crossword again. "Eighteen down is cyanide. I see you got cockatrice."

"Well, once you've ganked one of those suckers, you tend not to forget."

"You never forgot a thing in your life." said Sam, "Sometimes, I wish you could."


	30. Chapter 30

Even when Jules had left the room to get lunch, Cas had stayed there. In that room, he felt safe. He felt loved. When she had returned, they had cuddled up on the bed again and that had been as close as he could come to peace. 

The farm was starting to look so good to him. They could be a family there, Jules, Jack, Sarah and him and with his family around him, he could live without Dean.

Only, he couldn't. The sense of Dean's absence had been torture when they had no idea where he was. When Dean was physically right in the same building, but mentally shut off, emotionally unavailable, it hurt more. He told himself it was all Michael's doing, but that only meant he had no right to be angry with Dean. It didn't lessen his pain.

The worst part was that Dean was trying and he wasn't. He was letting Dean down, failing him when he most needed a friend. Dean had been angry with him before, justly and unjustly, but mostly with good reason. It had never hurt like this and this was not Dean's choice. 

Dean still loved him. Dean was still fighting. It was some other Dean that was using his voice to snarl and sneer, his eyes to shoot those looks of hate and fear. It was a fake Dean and behind its mask was his true friend. 

He should have been fighting for that friend, but he was afraid and he was taking refuge in the arms of someone else who had good reason to hate angels, but who saw him as an exception.

It was well into the afternoon when Sam knocked on the door. "Cas," he said, "I need to talk to you."

Reluctantly, Cas kissed Jules and got off the bed. He put on his coat and begun to tie his tie. He was still fiddling with it as he opened the door and he saw a question in Sam's eyebrows when he noticed the tie.

"What is it?" he said. 

"Something happened between Dean and Jack." said Sam.

"He hurt Jack?" said Cas.

"No. I don't think so. Jack won't tell me and Dean won't acknowledge that anything happened at all ... "

Cas was already out of the room and walking.

"Cas! Wait!" said Sam.

Cas stopped. Jules came out of the bedroom. She hurried to Cas and took his arm. "Jack's fine. Let's go someplace we can discuss this calmly."

"I can't be calm." said Cas, "He can do what he likes to me, but Jack's done nothing."

"You've done nothing." said Sam, "Let's go to the archives."

Soon, they were sitting around one of the small tables in the archive. Sam said, "I think what happened was just verbal."

"Words hurt." said Cas, "They especially hurt Jack."

"And if he hurt Jack, he hurt himself, too." said Sam.

"Good." said Cas.

"You don't mean that." said Sam.

Cas considered it for a moment. It had felt like he did. He didn't. He just wanted the pain to stop for all of them and he blamed himself for leaving Jack vulnerable when he could have stayed with him. "No." he said. He took out his phone and called Jack.

"Hello, Castiel!" said Jack.

"What happened with Dean?" said Cas.

"Nothing." said Jack.

"You're lying." said Cas.

"I think he feels he has to." said Sam, "Get him down here."

"We're in 7C." said Cas, "Come and join us."

"Is Dean there?" said Jack.

"No. Why would that be an issue?"

"I just wanted to know." Jack ended the call.

Cas glared at the phone.

Jules said quietly, "Cas, you need to be rational."

"I am rational." said Cas, "I am an angel. Pure reason."

"You're a protective dad, angry that someone hurt his son."

"Michael hurt Jack." said Cas, wishing it wasn't Dean's face he was imagining punching.

They waited in silence until Jack came into the room. He sat opposite Sam, who said, "Jack, we get that you can't talk about what upset you ... "

"We do?" said Cas. A look from Sam had him amending that to, "We do."

"But we need to know if you and Dean are currently on good terms."

"We are." said Jack, "It was heat of the moment stuff. I'm fine. We're fine. I just want to forget the whole thing."

"Good." said Sam, "I suggested we should go out to some quiet place tonight and have a campfire. Would you like to come along?"

"Yes!" said Jack.

"Cas?"

"No." said Cas, "Dean won't want me there."

"Dean does want you there." said Sam. He showed him a text on his phone, "Cas too." it said.

"It's a bad idea. He could bolt."

"He could bolt? Dean?" said Sam.

"It's a possibility." said Jules.

"Or he could lose his temper, attack me or Jack." said Cas.

"He's in control." said Jack, "He could have attacked me and he didn't."

"Was he tempted to?" said Cas.

"We all know Dean is suffering some issues." said Sam, "This bunker isn't helping. This is where he said yes to Michael. There are all kinds of complex triggers here and we can't predict when one will get to him."

"And you think taking him out with the two biggest triggers will help?"

"Here, he's constantly reminded of everything, including the angelic nature of you two. Out there, it'll be just four guys, a fire, some snacks. It's simple, basic. When we were kids, Dean loved to sit and stare into a fire. Sometimes it helped him to focus on fire."

Cas remembered the cabin and Dean, drinking too much and trying to face the horrors of Hell. Staring into the fire had helped him then, but the memories and emotions unleashed had been raw, primal and painful.

"I'm not at all sure it's a good idea." said Cas, "Jack says he's in control, but he's not. He could lose control completely."

"Probably best if we have you around, then." said Sam.

"Me? I can't put him to sleep without overpowering him and given that his whole problem is angelic control, that might not be the best way to ease his trust issues."

Sam spent a long time in apparent contemplation of the table top, then he said, "Cas, I know what I'm asking."

"I don't think you do."

"And I don't want to ask it. I don't want to ask anything of you after all you've done for us, but this could help you too. I know you want this rift with Dean to be healed."

"What if it can't be?" said Cas, sounding weak and pathetic even to himself.

"Then, I guess, Michael wins and Dean, as we knew him, is dead." said Sam, "But Dean is strong and your friendship is strong and I believe in both of you."

"If he goes," said Jules, "You have to promise me he can leave at any time and come home."

"You make me sound like an anxious child at a sleepover." said Cas.

"Or a wounded angel who could die of a broken heart. I nearly lost you last time. I am not letting you be put at risk like that again."

"At any time, I will bring him home myself." said Sam.

"Leaving Jack with Dean?" said Cas.

"I'm not scared of Dean." said Jack.

"I am." said Cas.

"Then you should be there." said Jack.

"What if it makes things worse?" said Cas.

"How could things get any worse?" said Sam.

"Things can always get worse. We have daily proof of that." said Cas.


	31. Chapter 31

It was a tense little group that gathered at the Impala. Sam tried to keep things as easy as possible, directing Cas and Jack to get into the back and where possible, keeping Dean's attention on him. as he loaded up kindling, food and a cooler full of beer.

Dean was trying not to be irritable, but failing. That was okay. He could be as difficult as he liked with Sam, as long as he was more successful in his efforts to be good to the others.

Cas was distant. Jules had been unhappy with the idea of him going off with them, but she understood that something needed to be done and she had agreed, making it very clear that if he came back in a worse state than he left, she would blame Sam. Sam had assured her that he would blame himself.

In the car, Cas was staring out of the window as if admiring a view that wasn't there yet. He had been offended by the fact that Jules assumed he needed protection or consideration, but he was also clearly afraid and trying not to look it. If Sam had asked him to cut his own throat for Dean's sake, he wouldn't even have hesitated, but asking him to spend an evening with them when Dean might be cold or angry towards him was too much. Sam couldn't kick the feeling that he was making a big mistake, but he had several ideas to make the situation more conducive to progress.

Jack, tender-hearted creature that he was, was looking at each of them with concern for their well-being. He was the one at greatest physical risk. Dean could kill him without breaking a sweat. Yet he seemed untroubled about himself. He just wanted his family to be happy again.

"Who's driving?" said Dean, waving the keys at Sam.

"You are." said Sam, "Unless you're too tired." Not being the driver never helped Dean to relax and having the road to think about would hopefully keep him from those intrusive thoughts about angels and why he hated them.

They joined the other two in the car. Dean looked back at the celestial passengers and said, "Jack, you okay?"

"Yes!" said Jack, "Can I help with the campfire?"

"Of course you can." said Dean, "Vital survival skill."

Sam was relieved to see genuine warmth in his glance, but then, it was easier for him to forget Jack's nature, when he had none of his original powers and posed no possible threat.

When Dean looked at Cas, the tension in the car increased. Sam realised he was holding his breath as he waited to hear what Dean would say and how Cas would react. "Cas," he said and when Cas neither looked at him nor responded, "Cas?"

Cas turned from the window and looked into his eyes. "Yes?" he said.

"Thanks for coming."

Cas nodded an acknowledgement.

Dean looked from Cas to Jack. "Is there something I don't know? Has Jack been telling tales?"

"No." said Sam quickly, before Cas could get angry at the accusation, "Jack refuses to say anything, but he's not so great a liar we don't know something happened."

"Great!" said Dean, "Thanks, Jack."

"Jack lied to me for you!" said Cas.

"Well, this is gonna be a fun night." said Dean.

Sam got out of the car. "Dean, a word."

Dean got out too. They walked a short distance from the car. "What?" he said.

"You know what. You're tired, you're paranoid and you're already getting angry. You wanna tell me what happened with Jack?"

"Let's call this off." said Dean.

"We all know something happened, so let's just get it out in the open. How bad was it?"

"Bad, okay?" said Dean, "I yelled at the kid. I got angry because he was touching my car. I threatened to drive over him at one point. I lost control, because all I could see was the spawn of Lucifer, tampering with my Baby."

"Cleaning it. He's cleaned it every week since you went away."

"Yeah, I know. We can't do this, Sam. I can't do this. I can't pretend everything's fine."

"Just pretend we're on a roadtrip with Dad." said Sam.

"I'm not joking."

"Neither am I. You were always the peacekeeper. You always put family first."

"I'm out of my mind." said Dean, "I'm a liability. I'm a danger to both of them.

"Away from the bunker, just the four of us and a fire, things may be easier. You may think a little clearer."

"Or I may lose what's left of my self-control."

"Do you trust me, Dean?" said Sam.

"You are the only one here I trust."

"Okay, then get in the car."

They both did. Sam looked into the back seat and said, "Ground rules. Any time Cas wants to leave, I'm bringing him back here. I promised Jules. Any time anyone gets angry or feels any urge to aggressive action, I want that person to just walk off alone for a few minutes to regain control."

"You mean me." said Dean.

"He means any of us." said Cas.

Sam went on, "We've all been through a lot together. I believe that our friendships ... our brotherhood, have more power than this Michael mess. I believe in us. I believe in each one of you. I am the one person here who can think rationally at this point and I am saying this can work. Whatever happens tonight, whatever angry thoughts come to mind, I want you to remember the way things were before Michael got in the way. Dean, you are stronger than this thing. Cas, you know this friendship is worth fighting for."

"Just don't ask us to shake hands." said Dean.

"No, I won't ask that yet." said Sam.

"Leaving me with Jack if you have to take Cas home would be a bit of a gamble." said Dean, "Like that puzzle Bobby made us do, crossing a river with a goose, some corn and ... "

"Are you saying I can't trust you with Jack?"

"I'm saying I don't trust me with Jack." said Dean.

"Well, then maybe don't make Cas so uncomfortable he wants to go home early." said Sam.

"You know, that could seem manipulative, to a paranoid mind." said Dean.

"Couldn't anything?" said Sam.

"Touché!"


	32. Chapter 32

They parked the Impala on a dirt track in the woods and went to Sam's chosen site, a clearing Mary and Bobby used sometimes to train new hunters who were lacking survival skills. It was neither well known nor attractive to others. It was, in fact, the kind of anonymous, safe clearing campsite their dad had taken them to as kids.

Dean needed that familiarity and it saddened Sam a little that there was nothing more solid than a patch of ground similar to patches of ground they had experienced before. The car was continuity, the only kind they had ever had. The car and each other and the angel and the kid. That was Dean's comfort zone, except that the angel and the kid were now compromised, thanks to Michael.

As soon as they were out of the car, Sam automatically went to the trunk and grabbed the small hatchet. 

"What are you doing?" said Dean.

"Going to find wood." said Sam.

"Nah, Jack and I can do that. Kid needs to learn how to do it right."

Sam gave him the hatchet.

"You're letting him go off alone with Jack and a sharp object?" said Cas.

"It's Dean, not Darth Vader." said Sam.

"He said he doesn't trust himself with Jack." said Cas. 

Sam understood, but Cas was only going to make Dean more irritable and more likely to get angry with either celestial. "Cas, it's fine."

Dean looked at Cas and said, "He's not here because of me. He's here to watch me, in case I go mad and hurt Jack."

"No he isn't." said Sam, beginning to wonder if he should have brought gags and handcuffs, "The stuff you said ... it would worry anyone and Cas may seem over-protective ... "

"No, he doesn't." said Dean, "He's right. I can't be trusted."

"I trust you." said Jack, "So should we go and get some firewood or not?"

"If you lay a finger on him ... " said Cas.

"I know. You still have your angel blade." said Dean. He and Jack walked away.

"Cas ... " said Sam.

"We shouldn't have brought Jack." said Cas.

"Jack is a powered-down celestial posing no possible threat. Dean should be able to overcome his fear of Jack."

"Know how he usually overcomes his fear of things? He ganks them." said Cas.

"Are you here just to protect Jack?"

"I'm here because Dean said he wants me here. I'm not sure he does."

"Well, I do. And not just for Dean. I think you need to be here."

"I'm not sure I need any of this." In the direction Jack and Dean had taken, there was the sound of a branch breaking and Cas was instantly alert.

"He would never hurt Jack." said Sam.

"Did you think standing a few feet from the car put you out of my hearing range? Because it didn't. He said he nearly ran over Jack."

"I don't believe that."

"Why would he make that up?" said Cas, still with his attention on the direction they had gone.

"What's going through Dean's head these days is not true or real. He thinks he was about to hurt Jack, but he wouldn't."

"He's tried to kill you before now," said Cas, "And me."

"That fear you're feeling now ... a fear just like it is making him think all kinds of crazy things. Worse, you two are constantly sparking off each other's worst fears and making each other crazier than before and you both have plenty of excuses, but you also both know this is not real."

"It feels real, when he looks at me with pure hatred."

"That isn't hatred, it's terror."

"The point is, I can take it ... "

"Can you?"

"And if he loses it and attacks me, I can put him on his back with no trouble at all. Jack can't. One lucky punch and Jack's dead."

"Do you imagine for a second I'd have brought him here if I thought Jack would be in any danger at all?" said Sam.

Cas looked at him, the first angry glance softening to something closer to embarrassment. "No, of course you wouldn't."

"No, I wouldn't. Look, I think Jack was in more danger in the bunker. Dean is under constant pressure there. I brought him here in the hope that the pressure might ease off a little, but that can't work if you pick a fight with him. Dean is a scared kid, lashing out at shadows. You and me, we need to be the responsible adults. That means we avoid provoking him, if possible and we try to help him to work through some of this in a relatively safe place."

"Everything provokes him. My existence provokes him."

"He doesn't hate you."

"He's said he hates me."

"He's also said he hates me and Mom. You believe either of those? Dean talks a load of bull when he's scared. You know that."

"Yes, but perhaps you should consider the fact that I am also scared." It was a whispered confession, from an angel who still saw such weakness as a failure.

"I do." said Sam, "I always do."

"You think I'm always scared?"

"I wish you'd both cut that crap. Stop trying to hear everything I say as an insult." said Sam.

"Everything feels like an insult right now." said Cas. Sam could not miss the pain in his voice.

"I know." he said, "I hate what this is doing to you and Jack."

"And if I have to choose between Dean and Jack ... "

"We're here so you never will." said Sam quickly, "Cas, you're strong ... stronger than all the other angels."

"Debatable." said Cas.

"No, proven. I need you to be strong for Dean. It's too much to ask, I know, but I have to ask it, because I can't see any other way to fix this."

"You know I will do anything I can." said Cas.

"Thanks. I know how much that encompasses."

"I'd give my life for him."

"I know." said Sam.

"Just not Jack's."

"Understood. Jack is not expendable to me, either."

"So, what do we do now?" said Cas.

"Now, we gather some of this brush and make somewhere for us to sprawl in comfort."

"He won't be comfortable anywhere near me."

"In the firelight, everyone feels like family." said Sam hopefully.


	33. Chapter 33

"How much firewood do we need?" said Jack, apparently losing enthusiasm.

"About five times what you think we're gonna need." said Dean, "Fire is greedy. It guzzles fuel." He smiled at the boy, weighed down with logs. "You start carrying what we have back to the others. I'll go on looking."

"Will you show me how to light a fire by rubbing two sticks together?"

"Not unless one of those sticks is a match. It'll be fully dark soon and I like to be warm. I thought we'd use a lighter."

Jack smiled. "Probably a good idea."

"Only kind I have." said Dean.

"You've done a lot of this, haven't you?"

"Over the years, yes."

"With your dad."

"Yes."

"When you were kids."

"That's right. And also when we were old enough not to find it exciting." He saw the wistful look in Jack's eyes. It was rare for him to be the one with the better childhood, but in this little gathering, he and Sam were fortunate in that respect. "I know you missed out, kid ... " he said.

"Necessary. A baby would have been an easy target for our enemies. I don't regret my decision. It's just that sometimes, I wish I could have been a child."

"I can relate." said Dean.

"By human standards, we're a strange family." said Jack.

"I never had a normal one to compare it to. Bobby ... our Bobby, was always more like a dad than our actual dad was, though I loved Dad all the same. We all had a serious lack of moms in our lives."

"Yes."

"But now our Mom is back and I'm fine with sharing her. Sarah too. Now there's a mom-like energy for you. Nothing about this is perfect, but it mostly works, right, kid?"

"Right." said Jack.

"If we overlook the current craziness."

"It still works." said Jack, "It's still better than anything else I could have." He meant it, every word. Hours before, he had threatened to drive over the kid and still Jack loved him.

"When Michael is dealt with, I promise, we'll do some of the dumb kid stuff you missed out on. You wanna go to Disneyland? How about Universal? They got some cool things there."

"Sounds good." said Jack, "Can we go to a rodeo?"

"Hell, yeah! Whatever you want."

Jack was about to speak but coughed three times instead.

"You okay, kid?" said Dean.

"Yeah, fine." said Jack, "I think it's the cold air."

"We need to get you near a warm fire. You go back to the others. I'll bring the wood."

"I can carry the wood." said Jack.

Dean gave him the flask from his pocket. "Cough medicine." he said.

Jack drank a little and almost choked. His eyes were a little brighter and for once, there was a hint of colour in his cheeks.

"Good stuff, huh?" said Dean.

"It burns the throat a little." said Jack.

"That's how you know it's working. How do you feel?"

"Good." said Jack.

Dean smiled. "Always trust Dr Dean."

"Always do." said Jack.

Dean looked at him, his paranoia making him search for signs of insincerity or sarcasm, but he found none. "I don't deserve you, Jack." he said.

"Well, you're stuck with me now." said Jack.

"So, Cas's opinion of me hasn't changed yours?"

"Castiel just worries about me. He always has."

"He's a surprisingly good father."

"Yes, but not my only one."

"I know. Sam's great too."

"You promised me Disneyland."

"Well, I'm the fun parent, not the good one." said Dean, "Everyone needs one fun parent."

"Who was yours?"

"Bobby."

"Bobby? I know your Bobby wasn't quite the same as our Bobby, but still ... "

"He played it gruff and grumpy, but he was the best. Most of my fun childhood memories involve him. We had some great times. He made great campfires too. Used to stir up the logs so the sparks flew. When I was old enough not to catch my clothes on fire, he let me do it too." Dean looked off into the trees, as if Bobby were about to come out of the woods to make them laugh again with his scurrilous tales. He missed him terribly.

Jack started to gather as much wood as he could in his arms.

"Don't carry too much at once." said Dean.

"Fewer trips." said Jack.

"You have nothing to prove."

"Maybe I want to impress Cas and Sam."

"Then be a good person. That's what they care about." said Dean.

"That's what I try to do." said Jack.

"And you do it, all the time." said Dean. He made himself look for signs of Lucifer in the child or of his nephilim nature, but out in the woods, trying to carry enough logs and branches to prove himself a man, he looked wholly Winchester. "We're all proud of you." he said.

Jack smiled and walked off with the first load of wood. "Bobby would have loved you." whispered Dean after him as he disappeared between the trees. "Hell, we all love you."

He knew the anger was still lurking somewhere, ready to burst free and attack anyone in range with a whisper of wings, broken or not, but for now, there was an oddly peaceful feeling. He had been alone with the half-angel kid and no harm had come of it. Maybe, now, Cas would trust him a little more. Maybe he could begin to have some faith in himself.

There was one thing he had to acknowledge and it was a big thing. He was a wreck and he knew it. He'd told Sam honestly that he didn't trust himself and that was reason enough for Sam not to trust him, but Sam did. Sam had handed over the hatchet without a word of warning and without demanding any surety or promise. Sam had not insisted on accompanying them and had overruled Castiel's justified concerns.

He had no confidence at all in himself, but Sam still believed in him. Sam, who knew him as well as he knew himself, perhaps better, believed he could control this ... believed he could be trusted not to harm Jack. It was not a question on which Sam would have taken a risk. Sam had known, with everything he had, that he could trust Dean. That was something. That was very nearly everything.


	34. Chapter 34

When Dean felt they had enough fuel, he and Jack divided the last load between them and returned to the clearing to add it to the pile Jack had already made. Sam and the other one had been busy too. Four pretty comfortable looking beds of brush and leaves were arranged around the fire with low hurdles of branches behind them to reflect back the heat of the fire. John Winchester would have been proud of Sam's work.

"I've seen motel rooms with less comfort." said Dean.

Sam smiled. "Well, we did our best."

"The fire is our job." said Dean, "Right, Jack?"

"Yes." said Jack.

Dean showed him how to set the first thin branches and sticks in place and where to put the kindling. He arranged the larger logs on the edges, not wanting to overwork Jack. He would never have said he was being asked to do too much, but he seemed far too delicate in his present state and Dean had no wish to embarrass him by giving him more than he could handle.

When they were ready, he felt in his pocket. "Hold it, I have my lighter."

"Use mine." said Cas, giving it to Jack. Dean knew Cas had only one lighter, his birthday present, engraved with the words he had meant at the time, "Lux tua, vita mihi" - "Your light is my life."

"Such a friendship is an abomination!" Michael had said. It felt like an abomination.

Jack smiled, reading the inscription. The smile seemed conspiratorial. The celestials were laughing at him, at how easily they had won his trust. Jack flicked the lighter on and bent to light the fire and his eyes were alight with the excitement of a kid getting to play with fire. Dean turned away and looked into the gathering darkness, knowing that there was nothing conspiratorial here ... nothing dark but his own corrupted thoughts.

"Great work, Jack!" said Sam as the fire came to life. 

Dean turned to look. Jack stood up straight and stared into the new flames. Cas gently guided him back a few feet. As a full-strength nephilim, Jack was invulnerable to fire. In his present state, not so much.

Jack, Sam and Cas stood close together, a family group. Dean was, by choice, not a part of that group. He was the only one not trying to be part of it. The heat from the fire seemed not to apply to him. He was feeling the cold of the outer darkness, beyond the homely circle Sam and Jack had made.

Jack passed the lighter back to Cas and Cas looked at it, reading the inscription, Dean thought, before putting it into his pocket. Their eyes met for a moment and then Dean looked away, angry with himself for being the first.

He gestured to the four comfortable couches of leaves. "Which is mine?"

"You choose. I don't know what arrangement will make you most comfortable." said Sam.

"Killing all celestials, probably." said the angel.

"Cas!" said Sam.

"It's okay." said Dean, "The way I've been acting ... "

"Cas looked at Sam, then turned to Dean and said, "Forgive me. I withdraw my comment. Maybe, if I put the fire between us, you'll feel more at ease. Although, it's not like holy fire." He went to sit on the other side of the fire.

Dean took the seat opposite. He did feel better with the flames as a wholly useless barrier between them.

Sam and Jack took the spaces to either side, Sam leaving his almost immediately to fetch the supplies and then hand out the beers.

Dean tried to focus on the fire, trying to feel the warmth, but he felt oddly disconnected from everything, zoning in and out for no reason. Then, somehow, he managed to concentrate on the flames and feel heat on his face, but it reminded him of the last time they had gathered around a fire, when they had burned Cas's body.

He struggled to swallow but his throat felt constricted. He remembered not being able to look at the body on the pyre, watching the smoke rise instead, feeling the unbearable loss, the full weight of the guilt, wishing he were on the pyre.

He knew they would soon look at him. This whole thing was about him, after all. They would look at him and see his distress and misjudge him, seeing hatred instead of remembered grief ... for the angel he hated ... the angel he would fight off with anything that came to hand if it tried to get near him.

It. Once, he had grieved Cas like a brother and now his mind called Cas it without a second thought. Except, that was a second thought. It still hurt, thinking of his death ... of every one of his deaths.

"It's too hot here." he said, standing up and walking out of the firelight into the cool concealment of the trees, the cool beer bottle in his hand. He knew what they would think, but it was hardly unfair to think it. The Michael-spawned contempt was one of the many emotions overpowering him, though it was not the strongest. He had lost Cas so many times and every time had hurt, but not like this did, this separation in life, a breaking of their profound bond, a betrayal of Castiel's unchanging loyalty.

Maybe Cas would go home. Maybe Jack would come to find him to say they were alone in the woods as Sam took Cas back. Maybe Sam would come to reason with him, begging him not to hate Cas, even as the tears of repeated partings swelled in his eyes. Was it even worth trying to claim he didn't hate Cas? Every change of wind seemed to flip him from love to hate to fear.

Jack had been so proud of making the fire. Dean felt like a jerk for spoiling his night. He wondered again why any of them even tried to help him. They must see how worthless he was.

He rested his back against the smooth trunk of a tree and opened his beer. It had no flavour. A tear ran down his face and he pretended some smoke had irritated his eyes.


	35. Chapter 35

Seeing Dean walk away like that made Sam feel like an idiot. Away from the bunker, he had hoped they would all interact as they used to, fall back into older, easier patterns, forget the harm that Michael had wrought.

"He couldn't stay for five minutes." said Cas, "Are we sure this is Michael's doing?"

"What do you mean?" said Sam.

"He saw the lighter. It's the one he gave me. I saw the look on his face. He regrets giving it to me. I think he regrets our whole association."

"He doesn't." said Jack, "I talked with him, out there in the woods. He only said good things about you. Everything bad, that's Michael."

"Just now, I was looking right at him." said Cas, "I don't think he could bear to be around me for one more second."

"He walked away because we agreed anyone with any negative feelings about the others would walk away." said Sam. Bringing Cas was beginning to seem like his worst mistake. Cas interpreted everything as his own fault and however obvious it was to Sam that Dean had gone to try to regain his self-control and avoid a fight, Cas saw it only as a sign that Dean wanted to be free of him.

"This isn't about Michael." said Cas, "Michael is his excuse."

"No." said Sam, "Michael messed with his head. This is not Dean."

"It's not the first time he's resented me." said Cas, "And he has every right to. He's tried so hard, for so long, but it was never going to work."

"What was never going to work?" said Sam.

"Dean Winchester, pretending one of Heaven's rejects could be his friend."

"You rejected Heaven, for us." said Sam.

"And Heaven rejected me right back."

"You are Heaven's best. You always were and Dean has always felt unworthy of your friendship and is always afraid you'll come to the same conclusion."

"Then he's a fool."

"No argument there." said Sam.

"Even now, as he is, I would do anything to regain his friendship."

"Even believe for a moment that he is still who and what he always was, just hidden behind a lot of pain?"

Cas looked at him for a long time in silence, then he said, "I should go after him. Someone needs to make sure he's okay."

"Not you." said Sam, "I'll go."

"No," said Cas, "It should be me."

"You may only make things worse." said Sam.

"It's possible, maybe probable, but either I have to leave now or he will have to face me at some point tonight. If I go off into the woods with him and we talk, argue or fight, he can come back here and pretend nothing happened or that he won. If we have the altercation here, it will be worse for him."

"Out there, alone, it will be worse for you." said Sam.

Cas gave an odd half-smile. "There is a kind of comfort in rock bottom. You know things cannot get worse."

"Is that where you are, right now?" said Sam.

"And as long as he hates me." Cas confirmed.

"He loves you. The real Dean, trapped under all that crap, has always loved you."

"You didn't see his face."

Jack coughed. Sam and Cas turned to look at him.

"Jack?" said Sam.

"It's the smoke." said Jack.

"Are you sure?" said Cas.

"I'm sure."

"Swap places with me." said Sam, "You need to be upwind of the smoke."

"I'm honestly fine." said Jack. He coughed again.

"Swap!" said Sam. Jack complied.

They both watched him for a while, but he didn't cough a third time. "I'm fine!" he said, "It's Dean we need to worry about."

"We agreed anyone could walk away for a while." said Sam.

"We have no idea what state of mind he's in." said Cas.

"We know it's bad." said Jack.

"Yes," said Cas, "And we know what kind of range bad has when it applies to Dean. I'm not leaving him out there alone."

"If you go after him, he could see it as an attack." said Sam.

"And if I don't, it's abandonment."

"Or respect." said Sam.

"It's fairly clear nothing I do will be interpreted that way." said Cas.

"And you're likely to interpret anything he says the wrong way too. Anything he throws your way is likely to hurt."

"You think I care about words?" said Cas. As usual, his eyes did not back up his bluff.

"I think you care more than just about anyone I ever met. If something he says gets under your skin, Jules will kill me for letting you talk with him alone."

"Jules is not my mother and neither are you. Maybe I can make things better. Maybe just giving him back the lighter will help."

"You can't give that back." said Jack, "That was your birthday present."

"Angels don't have birthdays."

"Giving it back would feel like a rejection to him." said Sam.

"Tonight, a rejection from me would be a fortunate escape to him. He wants me out of his life. That's doable."

"No it's not. We need to fight Michael together."

"I was never much use in any planned fight against Michael. Jules and I can do our small part from the farm, but we'll be a distraction at best."

Sam groaned. "You know, I age about ten years a day, going through this with you and Dean. You're both only this dumb because you need the friendship you pretend is over. You're so terrified of losing each other that all you do is push each other away."

"That makes no sense." said Cas.

"I think that's what he's trying to tell you." said Jack.

"In any case, I want to talk to him. How is that pushing him away?"

"Depends what you're going to say." said Sam.

"Mostly, for now, I plan to listen." said Cas, "Which of us are you trying to protect?"

"Right now? Mostly you." said Sam.

"I'm a celestil being, impervious to harm."

"In a dumb trenchcoat." said Sam.

"It really looks dumb to you?" said the impervious celestial being.

"No. Just reminding you that words can and do hurt you."

"But the coat's okay?"

"The coat's great, but the angel inside it is very vulnerable." said Sam gently.

"My strength used to lie in my faith. Now, it depends on my family, one of whom is out there, suffering. Let me at least try to help him."


	36. Chapter 36

Dean heard someone approaching and went further into the trees, wasting a little holy water to wash his face as he went. He wasn't trying to evade them, just to face Sam or Jack with a trace of dignity.

He froze as he heard the voice of his pursuer. "Dean, I'm not here to argue."

"Go back to the fire, Cas." he said, not turning around. He tried desperately to think of Cas as a friend, so he didn't say something cruel.

"I will." said Cas, "Could we just talk for a moment?"

"Not a good idea." said Dean, "I'm not at my best."

"Neither am I. We could try to figure it out together."

He remembered the funeral pyre again. No anger or revulsion seemed to be taking over, but he thought of every single time Cas had been hurt or killed for them. He turned to face him, hoping he looked at least semi-sane to the angel's excellent night vision. "I just need some space." he said, "Please, go back."

"I thought ... I thought maybe if I gave you back the lighter ... "

Dean nodded. "I understand. You don't want it anymore."

Cas looked at him, but his expression was hidden in the darkness. "I thought maybe you wouldn't want me to have it, now that the words have no meaning for you."

"Oh. Okay. No."

"No, you don't want it back or no, the words have no meaning?"

"Leave me alone." said Dean, aware that nothing he said would ever make sense to him or to Cas. He turned and started walking again.

"Dean! I'm sorry."

Dean stopped and turned again, "Will you stop apologising for everything, you anaemic, half-witted ... " He stopped. He struggled to form an apology and failed. "Just go back! There's nothing here for you or the others."

"Sam too?" said Cas.

"Especially Sam. I never should have come back. One bullet to the brain and I'd have posed no threat to anyone."

"And all that shame and guilt would be gone?" said Cas.

"I hope so."

"Because you still think you did this, don't you?" said Cas. He stepped closer. Dean instinctively stepped back. "I won't hurt you." said Cas.

"We hurt each other, all of us." said Dean.

"How much do you hate me, Dean?" said Cas.

"At this moment, I don't, but I will again."

"Then, in this brief time of truce, answer one question for me. If Michael had never possessed you, would that anger and hatred still be there?"

"Cas, don't." said Dean. What had he done to his friend that there was doubt on that point?

"It doesn't matter. You have your reasons. I just want to know."

An angel would ask that, bringing up old resentments, making him doubt himself. He shook his head, trying to lose the groundless suspicion, trying to remember if it existed before that ... before Michael ... And now he hated Cas for making him remember that violation and degradation.

"Get away from me!" he said. He turned and ran, stumbling over tree roots in the dark. It felt as if he ran from Michael, not Cas. He knew he could never outrun what really scared him, his failure to fight, his surrender.

Cas could find him easily, he knew. The dark was not dark to him and every sound came to his ears. He found a large tree and crouched behind it, pointlessly trying to avoid the inevitable.

When he heard Cas approaching, hus own response surprised him. There was a tension and fear, but also a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time, the feeling that someone cared enough to come looking for him, even when he was being stupid. He would have to move on when Cas found him. He might even have to make a sigil and blow Cas away, because there was no way he could face him again. But, just when he expected Cas to lean around the trunk of the tree, he instead heard something on the other side of the tree, something like the sound of an angel in a trenchcoat, sitting down. He tried not to breathe.

"Listen," whispered Cas, "We can spend all night playing hide and seek like this or we can sit here, with this 207 year old tree between us and talk."

"Option one sounds good to me." said Dean.

"I knew I shouldn't give you a choice." said Cas.

Dean laughed. For the first time all night, he felt like himself. He didn't think he had laughed much since he got back. He couldn't remember laughing at all. He had thought things could never be as they were, but Cas had come to find him and he was sitting behind a tree to make him feel safer. "I don't know why you're here." he said, then, knowing how that would be taken, he added, "I'm not worth the effort."

"It seems we don't agree on anything, these days." said Cas.

Dean wished he could see his face to know how he meant that, but it was too dark to see, even if he had the courage to go around the tree.

It was hard to say it, but he had to. In a rough, unsteady voice he said, "I don't want the lighter back."

"Do you want me to keep it?" said Cas.

"The words on it ... I meant them then. What's left of me means them now. But I know it may not feel that way and if you don't want it, give it to Jack. I'll understand if you'd rather not have it."

"I treasure it." said Cas.

"Then why offer to give it back?"

"I saw your face when you saw it in my hand. It caused you pain. There is nothing I wouldn't give up to spare you pain, except Jack."

"It caused me guilt." said Dean, "Because I've been a lousy friend to you and I can't blame all of it on Michael." He thought of the question that had made him bolt before and said, "But to answer your question, the hate ... the anger ... That's Michael and my reaction to Michael. It's not me and it definitely isn't you."

There was silence. Dean wondered if he'd said the wrong thing. "I'm no good at this." he said, "This or anything else." There was still no reply and he added, "Maybe there really is nothing left of who I was." He chuckled sadly, "Like I was ever good at this. I'm sorry I dragged you into all this."

"You didn't. Tonight was Sam's idea."

"I mean all of it." said Dean.

"All of it? You're sorry I got to be part of a family, that I broke free of a corrupt and dangerous Heaven, that we saved the world, that we keep saving the world?"

"You spin it all a lot better than I do."

"Before I met you, I saw all archangels but one as so far above me I could not comprehend their perfection. You showed me they were all fallen or falling. You made sense of the confusion. You helped me to save Heaven from all of them."

"Except Gabriel."

"Gabriel was fallen, in his own way, but he was also the one who got up again." Very quietly, Cas said, "You and Sam are the only ones who know how little I want to talk about this. You are the only ones who know how it feels to be defiled by their presence, to submit your will to theirs or, like Sam, to have control wrested away. I don't want thoughts in my head about this. Speaking it is all but impossible."

"Then say nothing." said Dean, "Nothing we say can ever make it any easier for any of us."

"You used to ask Sam to talk about it."

"Yeah, but now I get it." said Dean, talking fast, desperate not to hear anything of archangel possession and not to make Cas revisit his own miserable experience of being ridden by Lucifer.

"Their power is near absolute. Their vessels are generally crushed and broken. I have never known a non-Winchester to fight them in his own body and win. I am an angel and I had to be saved by Amara, because I could not fight Lucifer."

"Stop talking. Please, Cas, just shut up!"

"Sam beat Lucifer and I know you think you're weaker because you couldn't cast Michael out, but Sam had you beside him and his victory lasted seconds. Long enough to consign Lucifer and Michael to the pit, but not permanent."

"Don't diminish his victory to make me feel better." said Dean. Just thinking about Lucifer invading Sam, then later Cas, was making him nauseous.

"I'm not. I'm saying none of us are as powerful as archangels. I'm saying you leapt from a cliff edge to save the others. You knew you could destroy yourself by doing it. You had little hope of breaking free if it went wrong and it did go wrong. I still don't know how he got past the consent thing, but you sacrificed yourself, as you always do and I think you'd do the same again."

"Yes." said Dean, "Because I'm dumb."

"Because you won't let Sam and Jack die while there is anything you can do to prevent it. The hardest part of all this is seeing you, hating yourself, hurting yourself, because you think everything is your fault. You think Michael wiped out Dean Winchester. You think the person you were is gone. The rest of us see more clearly. Who but the true Dean would come out of that fight a hero and be consumed with guilt because he didn't win it faster?"

"I didn't win it at all. Michael left."

"Michael left his perfect vessel? Why would he do that?"

"I wish I knew." said Dean.

"I'm fairly sure it wasn't because the vessel was weak and compliant."

"Everything in me was corrupted by his presence." said Dean.

Cas didn't answer for a moment. When he did, he sounded close to tears. "Yes." he said, "That's what archangels do. I was corrupted by Lucifer. The shame is overwhelming. I wish I could tell you how to get rid of it, or how to live with it, but I'm still working on that."

"Your shame makes no sense."

"Neither does yours, to me, but I know the weight of it and the bitter taste and I know how it feels to pass a mirror and see the face of your enemy." Another long silence and then he said, "And I know how it feels when a friend is able to see past all the shame and self-loathing and know who you really are and always will be."

"And how it feels when a friend hates you, even against his will."

"Yes." said Cas.

"My friendship isn't worth that."

"It is to me." said Cas.


	37. Chapter 37

"They've been gone a long time." said Jack.

"Yes." said Sam, who had been thinking the same thing.

"Should I ... "

"No. If anyone goes looking, it should be me. I don't know whether I should go now, in case things are going wrong, or wait and trust that Cas knows what he's doing."

"Cas knows Dean." said Jack.

"Yes, he does."

"But he's not always good with emotions, Dean's or his own."

"No." said Sam.

"I haven't heard anything that sounds violent."

"Which has to be good." said Sam. The last thing he wanted was for Jack to see how worried he was, but Jack was not stupid and it was hard to hide it. Bringing them all to the woods had been a risk and there had always been at least a fifty percent chance that it would make things worse. 

He would feel more confident if Cas were feeling good, but Cas had not gone out there with confidence or optimism. It was desperation that had sent him after Dean, just as desperate fear had driven Dean from the fireside. They were out there alone, two wounded, scared former friends, each likely to lash out with little warning, each willing to blame themselves forever if they hurt the other more.

Sam's fears were yelling at him to go and find them before that happened. His head agreed with Jack, that they had been gone too long and that neither was likely to discuss things calmly. His gut told him to trust them and their long friendship. His gut told him that believing in Dean had never been the wrong decision.

One wrong word, one clumsy phrase, from either, would have a devastating effect and Dean was less than diplomatic at the best of times. On the other hand, a moment of honesty, even just a moment of actually listening to each other, could do them both so much good.

Cas looked into Dean's eyes and saw hatred. Dean looked at Cas and saw a manipulative angel, a sinister being with immense power. All Sam saw, looking at either of them, was a heart so scarred it barely continued beating and a head so full of self-condemnation that neither could imagine that anyone who claimed to like them could possibly be telling the truth.

He couldn't blame either of them for their defensive prickles or skewed self-image. The life they had all lived was always a life of bad decisions, painful sacrifices and constant, soul-destroying doubt. 

Sam knew what it meant to host an archangel. Dean thought Lucifer was worse than Michael, but Sam didn't think so. Sam had unknowingly been prepared for it all his life, by Azazel and his minions. There had been a kind of inevitability about it. Dean had never thought it would happen. More than that, he had made it a fundamental part of who he believed himself to be that he would never let it happen.

Sam had tried that too, but without Dean's strength of will. Dean had bet everything on his ability to go on saying no forever and, having denied this world's Michael with what was very nearly his last breath, he had been sure he had won.

Sam had also believed it, right up until Dean had teleported to his side, archangel on board, to destroy Lucifer. He couldn't talk about that to Jack, either. They shared the guilt that, for their sakes, Dean had sacrificed his autonomy and become a helpless vessel to a violent, narcissistic archangel with a predilection for burning worlds.

To them, it would always be heroic; one more way in which Dean had shown his selfless, courageous nature and he wished Dean could see it that way too. Dean saw nothing noble in it, nothing brave. To him, it was a stupid act, by someone too dumb to find a better way. It was an abject surrender, a cowardly collapse of his will. To mention it was like beating him with a spiked whip. Sam wished he could take every thought of it from Dean's head, but knew he could not.

Technically, Cas could do that, but would not, because it was a bad idea and because he had never recovered from wiping the memories of Dean from Lisa and Ben's minds. It was a bad idea, like letting Michael take control, but letting Dean live with this for the rest of his life didn't seem much better.

Sarah was a counsellor and this ... well, it wasn't quite her field of expertise, but it wasn't far from it. She'd helped victims of torture, mental and physical, she understood abuse and terror and violation. She knew how a blameless victim could feel shame and an anger at themselves that seemed insane to others. Sarah could help him, if he could just once allow anyone to do that.

He wasn't sleeping. Hunters never slept much and Dean and Sam had both spent a lot of nights awake. They functioned well on almost no sleep. Dean could grab a nap in the car after twenty-four hours of hunting and be up and fighting again thirty minutes later. 

Now, though, Sam could see the barely perceptible slope of the shoulders, the little sigh of weariness when Dean stood up out of a chair, the shadows around the eyes. He knew his brother's limits and he knew that Dean was edging ever closer to them.

Normally, there was an easy solution. Wait until he was too tired to pretend he wasn't and nag him until he agreed to let Cas put him under. Then he'd get a nice, long sleep and wake up looking and feeling much better. Much more difficult when the main reason he wasn't sleeping was that he felt he needed to be alert for a sneak attack by angels. He was not about to put any trust in Cas.

He looked off into the dark woods. Perhaps he was needed out there. Dean and Cas could be standing spitting insults at each other. They might be fighting, though the fight would be brief and one-sided, since Cas was armed and had angelic strength to begin with.

Maybe they did need him out there, or maybe it would be best to let them have some time alone in the darkness. For now, at the campfire, he was needed by a child who looked like a grown man, but still needed kindness and reassurance. 

"Come on, Jack." he said, "Let's get those marshmallows."


	38. Chapter 38

Dean had changed position a few times to avoid cramp and other discomforts. Cas was still and quiet behind the tree. When Dean settled and fell silent, he heard Cas say, "Is there a problem?"

"Just getting a little cold and stiff." said Dean.

"I know where there's a fire." said Cas.

Dean didn't answer. It would be good to be warm and no doubt Sam was beginning to worry about him, but away from the light and the witnesses, sitting back to back with Cas, with only a tree between them, there was a kind of peace. Cas didn't seem like an angel. He didn't feel like a victim. Their shared history meant more than recent suffering and Dean was beginning to feel that perhaps there could be a reconciliation.

"I'm not trying to rush you." said Cas.

"I'm not ready." said Dean.

"No problem. Are you still okay with this? With me here?"

"Yeah." said Dean. He wanted to say that he wanted Cas there, that the possibility of saving their friendship was important to him, but the angel-scarred sections of his mind were telling him not to admit his weakness, his vulnerability, his need. "Are you okay?" he said.

Cas's response sounded like he was smiling. "Yes, Dean, I'm okay."

"Because I know I have put you through it lately."

"And now you're here and we're talking. Are you feeling any urge to kill me at all?"

"Relax, I have no angel blade."

"I didn't ask if you had the means. I asked if you had the inclination." said Cas.

"For now, like this, I'm okay." said Dean, "And before you ask, Pact okay too."

"That's good." said Cas.

"But it's not practical to make sure there's always a tree between us."

"If that's what it takes ... "

"It wasn't a joke."

"I'm not laughing. If the price of your friendship involves meeting only in forests ... well, I've paid more for less."

Dean heard Cas's phone announce a text.

"Sam, asking where we are?"

"Jules, checking if I'm okay. She worries."

"What will you tell her?"

I'm just saying, "All is well. I love you."

"Wow."

"Is that wrong?" said Cas, sounding concerned.

"No, that couldn't be more right. It's just good to hear you're relaxed about 'I love you' even if you can't figure out the rest."

"Meaning sex?" said Cas.

"It's not my business and Sam says I should butt out."

"Hey, we're talking. Let's talk. Maybe the human stuff keeps us in a safe zone."

"I just want you to be happy." said Dean. He was in no position to criticise how anyone else handled their relationships.

"Forget the disclaimers. I welcome your advice. The truth is, it's becoming a problem."

"Just a second." said Dean. He closed his eyes and searched for negative feelings about Cas, for any cold sliver of contempt that might make him say something terrible. "Okay," he said, "Just needed to check Michael had left the building. Figuratively. What's the current situation? I mean, you made the big commitment, right? That ring?"

"Yes. We're committed. I love her. She loves me. We both want to have sex, we've been so close to having sex and then I just can't."

"How close?"

"We kiss a lot ... and intimately."

"You kiss a lot? Well, kissing isn't ... intimately?" Dean remembered who he was talking to and what he had been told about the electrical issues at the farm and bunker. "Cas, when you say you kiss, kissing for you is anything involving the mouth, right?"

"Yes. What else would kissing be?"

"So you've kissed her ... uh ... intimately."

"Yes, several times now. We both enjoy it very much."

"Yeah, I'll bet you do. And has she kissed you that way?"

"No, not yet. She wants to, but it feels wrong."

"Wrong?"

"Untimely. It's too soon. It's dangerous. As things are, I can control my base impulses, the demands of this human vessel."

"There is no human in that vessel, Cas. You can't blame this on Jimmy."

"I don't, I blame it on the flesh. Dean, it hungers for touch, for sex."

"I know that feeling well."

"But you've had a lifetime to learn to handle it. I can't. If she saw the thoughts in my head, she might run screaming from me."

"Are the thoughts violent or non-consensual or abusive?"

"No, of course not."

"Of course not, because that's not who you are. You're scared of your perfectly normal need for sex."

"It's not normal for angels." said Cas.

"Nothing about you is normal for angels. That's why you're the only angel I don't want to gut and gank."

"Thanks. That's a kind thing to say." said Cas.

Whether he was joking or not, it was one of the nicer things Dean had said recently. He felt bad about that and he consciously buried the feeling, knowing guilt was a gateway to irritation and then anger.

"Maybe you should tell Jules all the thoughts in your head, because I don't think she'll be disgusted or scared. I think her head is filled with similar thoughts."

"She hasn't mentioned them."

"No, because she's trying not to demand anything you don't want to give. If she's letting you kiss her like that, that's a big thing. She trusts you and she loves you. I think she wants you as much as you want her."

"Sometimes, she suggests we should both be naked."

"It's a good first step." said Dean.

"But I feel overwhelmed by the physical sensations and desires when I take the coat off and lie beside her."

"And you have to avoid feeling overwhelmed."

"Yes." said Cas.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Most of humanity spends most of its time looking for something good enough to overwhelm their senses like that."

"Everything overwhelms human senses. The hardest part of learning to live in the flesh is learning to handle the constant assault on the senses. When she says, 'I love you.' I feel my heart pound and my stomach flip and I can't focus on anything else. When we kiss, even just mouth to mouth, my lips become the centre of the universe. Her breath on my skin as she sleeps is almost more than I can endure. I have no self-control when I am with her."

"You have absolute self-control. That's the problem." said Dean, "You have impressive self-discipline, but if you're ever planning to have a proper relationship with her, you need to learn to let go."

"It's easy for you. You don't know what it's like to be afraid all the time."

"I don't? I've been scared my whole life!" He hadn't intended to say that. There were dangers to this talking together in the dark thing. He knew Cas had heard him. There was no point in trying to pretend he hadn't said it. "That's what life is, finding a way to step past the fear."

"And if I can't, Jules and I can never make love."

"Hey, none of that! If you can't? You molotoved Michael! You've stopped more apocalypses than you've had changes of outfit. You've kept two dumb, reckless hunters mostly alive. You took the son of Satan and you made the kid a saint. There is nothing you can't do."

"Nothing?"

"Hell, you have Dean Winchester sitting under a tree talking chick-flick stuff."

"That I have Dean Winchester still talking to me after I let him get taken over by Michael ... "

"I said yes. My choice."

"Doesn't seem to alter my guilt."

"Well, it should." said Dean, "I think you should talk to Jules. Tell her everything. Tell her you want it to happen, but you're scared and maybe you need her to help you get past that."

"That's the advice Sam gave me."

"Then why haven't you done it?" said Dean, "Sam knows a lot more about relationships than I do."

"I have, a little. It's not easy, to admit to being terrified."

"Newsflash: when it comes to love, we're all terrified, all the time. Trust me, she gets it." Dean was starting to feel very cold and his legs were becoming stiff again. "We should head back."

"If you're ready."

"At some point, I have to face them. See? If I can face my fear, so can you."

"I thought I was your fear and you can't face me yet."

"Well, now I'm gonna have to." said Dean. He went to stand up, but it was a struggle. "I may be frozen to the spot." he said, "My legs don't like this cold."

"If I try to help, you'll see it as an attack." said Cas.

"We just had a pretty deep discussion. Come help me up, you feathered freak."

He heard Cas get up and felt his whole body tense. His heart began to pound as Cas approached his side of the tree. When the hand reached out to him, it took a serious effort of will to grasp it, but he did and the angel lifted him easily to his feet.

"I could warm you a little." said Cas.

"We'll be by a roaring fire soon." said Dean.

"How do you want to do this? Should I go first? Should I hang back? How far away do I need to be to make you feel comfortable?"

"We'll go together." said Dean, "It'll reassure Sam."


	39. Chapter 39

Sam could not have been more relieved to see Cas and Dean reappear together, Cas in the lead, Dean right behind. He wanted to ask questions, but Dean didn't look enthusiastic to answer any. All that mattered was that they were back and they were on good terms.

"Are those marshmallows?" said Dean.

"You're a little late." said Jack, "We've eaten most of them."

"No we haven't." said Sam. He threw an unopened bag to Dean who caught it easily, despite too little sleep.

"You want some?" said Dean to Cas.

"No, thanks. Angels ... " A look from Dean stopped him from finishing the sentence. He nodded and said, "Why not?"

"That's the spirit!" said Dean, "Be open to new experiences!" He looked at Sam. "Sam, change places with Cas."

"Are you sure?" said Sam. That would put Cas and Dean side by side on the same side of the fire.

"Yeah, we're okay. Plus, Michael would hate it. Tonight is Screw Michael Night."

"Well, I'm down for that." said Sam.

"Sounds good to me." said Jack.

This had obviously not been discussed. Cas looked uncertainly at Dean. Dean smiled at him. "Sit, Cas. Good news, everyone, Cas is gonna be braver about his life choices from now on, especially the ones involving Jules."

"I don't remember ... " Cas began as he sat down.

"Sure you do," said Dean, "It was just after I got past my fear of angels."

Cas smiled. "Well, we'll see how we both do on defying our fears."

Dean nodded. "I have faith in you, man."

"Yes, it really seems you do." said Cas.

Sam knew a lot of the conversation was going over his head, but that they were talking and smiling was enough for him. 

When they were all comfortably seated, with marshmallows roasting, Dean said, "You have nothing to be ashamed of, Cas. The only one here who never had any problems with relationships is Jack and that's only because he's purer than Purell."

"It's true." said Sam, "I've had my share of dating disasters."

"He's not kidding." said Dean, "Go on, Sam. Tell him one of yours."

Sam wondered where all this was leading, but if he had to be embarrassed to keep Dean in this good mood, it seemed a fair deal. "Okay. I met this girl when I was around eighteen. Tall, beautiful hair, amazing eyes ... "

"Quit bragging. He knows all that. He's met you." said Dean.

"I was describing her." said Sam, "Cady Chandler. She was stunning. I was ... well, I was a little lacking in polish."

"He was an awkward nerd." Dean translated.

"Who's telling this story?" said Sam.

Dean raised his hands in surrender.

"I had bad influences on my life at the time. My role models were Dad and Dean. The way I saw it, Dean never struck out with women, so I tried a Dean line. Then I tried another. And another. She got less impressed with every line, because I just couldn't deliver them like he could."

"There are few who can." said Dean, smugly.

"Do you have a list of these lines?" said Jack.

"Hey, kid, at least make double digits before you go looking for love." said Dean.

"Nothing worked on Cady." said Sam, "She just looked at me with utter contempt, then he turns up, smiles, waves his cellphone at her and says, 'This isn't my phone.' She said, 'Yes, it is.' He said, 'It can't be. It doesn't have your number in it. I wouldn't forget to get that before we left.' And she just smiled and put her number on it for him."

"Oh yeah, I remember her now." said Dean, "Why didn't you tell me you were interested in her first?"

"There wasn't much point, was there?" said Sam.

"Well, if it's any consolation, I never got anywhere with her either. Next day, we were chasing a vengeful spirit in Nebraska. I never got a chance to call her."

"That does make me feel better." said Sam.

"So, Cas, you're doing better than either of us did with Cady. You and Jules are kissing and everything."

"I thought we'd agreed to let Cas deal with his own relationship in his own time." said Sam.

"I asked for his advice." said Cas.

"Oh." said Sam, briefly hurt, but then he remembered the circumstances. Out in the woods, trying to find a way to connect with Dean without setting off the angel phobia, Cas had asked him about his favourite subject and had, apparently, managed to get him talking. "That's good." he said, "Dean has had a lot of experience."

"And I gave him good, mature, useful advice." said Dean, "I pretty much thought to myself, 'What would Sam say?'" It was a nice gesture, but Sam didn't believe it.

"What happened with the ghost hunt in Nebraska?" said Jack.

"We aced it, of course." said Dean, "Dug up three graves before we torched the right bones, but there was a very satisfying whump as it went up in flames."

"Even more satisfying to Dad, as it was trying to rip out his heart at the time." said Sam.

"We had some good times with Dad." said Dean.

"Yeah, we did." said Sam, "Do you remember the thing in Rathdrum, Idaho?"

"Oh, that thing was gnarly." said Dean.

"What was it?" said Jack.

"We actually never found out." said Dean, "Went right into Bobby's 'Things: Unknown' file. It was some kind of shifter, turning into all these weird, inhuman things and killing people for their adrenal glands. Dad took it out with a silver bullet to the heart. Beautiful shot. He never missed." His sigh reminded Sam how exhausted he was and how much he still missed their father.

"I never met anyone who could shoot like he could," said Sam, "Except you."

"I was never in the same league." said Dean, but he smiled at the compliment.

"Remember that swamp monster in Louisiana?" said Sam.

"Honey Island? Yeah, took all three of us to take that thing down."

"What was it like?" said Jack.

"Grey fur, glowing eyes, taller even than Sammy." said Dean, "Creepy as hell and always hungry. It had been eating people for years. The lair was full of bones and bits. It stank. The breath was disgusting. It had little pieces of people stuck in its teeth. It looked like a listerine commercial."

"How did you kill it?"

"Sam came up with this trap. It was genius. When the thing was hunting, it really didn't think of anything but the prey, so Sam got it to chase him and he led it through a couple of gates that only opened one way. By the time it realised there was no way out, Dad and I had a clear shot at it. Took four direct hits to kill it, but so worth it." He laughed. "We were good, Sam."

"We still are." said Sam.

"No. Now, we're the best. Tell Jack about the chupacabra in El Paso."

Sam started to tell the story and Jack listened with interest, asking a lot of questions. That story led to another and another and after a while with no interruptions or embellishments from Dean, Sam looked over to see if he looked okay and found that he was sleeping at last.

He looked at Cas and whispered, "Did you ... ?"

"No. I'm not doing anything of that kind without his consent."

"We must have been more boring than we thought." said Jack.

Sam looked at his brother's peaceful face and shook his head. "For the first time since he got back, he feels safe."

"Despite the fact I was right beside him." said Cas.

"Maybe because you were." said Sam, "I wasn't sure this would help, but Sarah said to do stuff like this and it seems she was right."

"Sarah usually is." said Cas.


	40. Chapter 40

Jules was tired, but not eager to try to sleep. Cas said all was well in his text, but he always tried not to worry her and even if everything had been fine then, Dean was volatile and Cas was vulnerable. She knew she couldn't do a thing to help, but felt she should at least keep a vigil. She sat in a quiet corner of the library, reading and re-reading obscure books on angelology.

Some books were useful. Some helped to explain how the pure essence of an angel interacted with the muddy, sluggish mundanity of a human vessel. To a degree, the presence of the human soul in the vessel both buffered and assisted the angel in dealings with material matters. The human seemed to take the edge off the sensations and emotions that could otherwise overpower the celestial essence. Even where that was not possible, the human consciousness could help the angel to understand.

Some books said that was good, some that it was bad. A few spoke of the dangers to the pure angelic essence from overlong contact with humanity, especially in the close bond between angel and vessel. For many angels, it was a bond that became a deep affection. Jules remembered how Cas spoke of Jimmy with genuine love and regret for his death and for all the suffering that preceded it. Cas had, for love of Jimmy, taken an interest in his daughter's welfare and now, it felt like his affection for Claire was close to that of a father, though shot through with guilt.

Such closeness was corrupting, in the eyes of many experts, especially the theologians. Jules saw it differently. Angels came from Heaven cold and certain. The ones who had burned her world to ashes had been utterly sure of their righteousness. Cas doubted his every thought and action, questioned his own motives, agonised over decisions, regretted his mistakes. Jimmy and Dean had both taught him that, corrupted him, in the eyes of Heaven and Heaven's cheerleaders, but how was he corrupt in his questioning when those who had never questioned their orders to cleanse a city or smite some innocent as part of a larger plan were seen as pure? To her, the latter were pure evil, Cas, a creature tortured by his devotion to good.

Often, as she read, she would think about what those disapproving moralists and theologians would think of her relationship with Cas. She liked to imagine their pompous faces contorted with disgust as they heard that he was spending his nights exploring her naked flesh. Okay, his explorations had barely touched on the coastline, but he was certainly getting his feet wet.

Her reading was disturbed by the sudden appearance of a mug off coffee, placed in front of her by Mary Winchester.

"Thanks." she said.

"Hunters have unhealthy sleep patterns." said Mary.

"Hunters have unhealthy everything patterns." she replied.

"True. I can't sleep either. It's hard, knowing our boys are out there and we can't help them. Have you heard anything?"

"Some time ago, he texted to say, 'All is well. I love you.' Which is three words longer than it needed to be. Of course, he sometimes uses, 'I love you.' to mean, 'Don't worry.' The many codes of Castiel. I could write a book on them."

"I hope all is well."

"I don't think he would deliberately lie to me. Our relationship is fairly honest. Truth matters, to both of us."

Mary sat opposite her. "Since Dean got back, he's so different. I mean, adult Dean has always been closed off and private, but this time, he's so wrapped up in himself, as if we just don't exist for him anymore. He came to talk to me and that seemed like progress, but however hard he tried, he couldn't say much to me. He was so afraid of Castiel."

"And Cas is so afraid of being rejected by Dean. It scares me how easily Dean could shatter his heart without even noticing."

"Dean would notice." said Mary, "All he seems to see is the harm he does. All I ever wanted was for my children to be free of all the horrors of hunting. I wanted them to have normal lives. I wanted to spare them what I went through. But they had it worse than I ever did. Both my sons went to Hell. Both of them were invaded and controlled by archangels. A lifetime of pain without me there to help them or comfort them and now I am here and I still can't be there when they need me."

"I know you feel like you failed them, but they turned out alright. Whatever they went through, they had the strength to come out the other side. Yes, they both went to Hell, the demon factory, and both came out more human, more compassionate, more caring, than they went in, give or take a little soullessness for a time."

"I know they've saved a lot of people."

"Worlds, Mary. They saved their world several times. They saved the remnants of mine. They saved Cas and the changes they wrought in him have not played out yet. Great things will come of them. I'm sure of that."

"All that they are, they are by their own efforts. I failed them." said Mary.

"I don't think so. Dean is the way he is because he's strong. He's stronger than whatever Michael did to him. Half the reason he's so shut off now is that he's strong enough to hold up those walls whatever gets thrown at him. That strength didn't come from nowhere. When you and I fought side by side in my world, I saw that strength in you, that inability to surrender. I saw you face down angels with a sharpened stick. I saw you ready to die for people you didn't know."

"People I already knew were worth dying for." said Mary.

"You think you left your sons with nothing. I think you gave them the very strength that will get them both through this ... through everything. Those boys will never give up. They will never stop fighting."

"I still wish they had never had to start."

"I know, but we're all born on the battlefield, whether we know it or not." Jules checked her phone.

"Anything?" said Mary.

"Nothing. Of course, if he and Dean are talking, he won't want to stop to tell me about it and if they're fighting, he won't have time. Still wish I could be with him."

"I wish I could be with Dean. This stinks, knowing they could all be in distress and I'm not there."

"Watching helplessly as the people I love get hurt is too much of a theme in my life. I think that's why I started fighting and why I fight so hard. And now, there's nothing I can do and the angel I love, my sort of stepson and two men who are like brothers to me could be destroying each other and I'm here, reading books about angels."

"If it helps, having you to talk to stops me losing my mind." said Mary.

"Thanks. That does help. At least I can help someone."

"Finding anything good about angels?"

"I'm finding a lot of things I need to ask Castiel about."

"I never know how to talk to Castiel. For you, it seems to come so naturally."

"It's a matter of getting into the right mindset. With Cas, I am simultaneously talking to a supragenius with a perfect knowledge of history, theology, philosophy and apiculture and a three year old child who needs the most basic concepts explained. It can be exhausting. I also have to remember that everything he hears gets filtered through layers of shame and fear that I can't fully understand."

"How do you deal with that?"

"I talk fast, comfort often and constantly ask myself, 'Is there any way he can hear this as an accusation?' And I still get it wrong. Fortunately, he understands all that, so he usually gives me a chance to rephrase and rectify the situation."

"You're working hard for this relationship."

Jules chuckled. "Actually, he's the least problematic boyfriend I've ever had. Frankly, my whole love life has been a bit of an apocalypse."

"It sounds like it." said Mary, smiling.

"Unlike the others, he's worth the effort. He's worth everything." said Jules.


	41. Chapter 41

After Dean fell asleep, the others spoke little and very quietly. His exhaustion had been obvious and nobody wanted to disturb his first real sleep in a long time.

Sam wanted to talk to Cas, but it was impossible. Their eyes communicated a little, enough to tell Sam that Cas was also a lot more at peace now, but wanting to let Dean sleep and also worrying about how much Jack should hear kept both of them from speaking aloud.

Jack was happy enough. For the first hour, he watched over Dean, a guardian nearly-angel. Then he seemed content that Dean was getting the rest he needed and he watched the flames, gazing into them with a contemplative look. Sam could not guess at the thoughts in his head but the expression on his face was peaceful and Jack lacked the Winchester art of concealing his emotions.

Eventually, Jack relaxed on his pile of leaves and twigs and also fell asleep. In the glow of the firelight, he looked very young, reminding Sam just how vulnerable he was. Cas must have felt the same way. He took off his coat and laid it over Jack. Then he went and sat on the ground near Sam.

"You should sleep too." he said, "I'll be awake anyway. I can watch over them."

"No," said Sam, "If he wakes and finds you the only one awake, he'll get paranoid again. Tonight, he needs me awake, even if he doesn't think he needs me at all." He glanced at Dean, still soundly asleep. 

"Do you think, when he wakes, he'll still be talking to me?" said Cas.

"I don't know." whispered Sam, "I hope so." He thought of a way they could talk without waking Dean, but remembering how Cas had reacted last time he had suggested it, he broached the matter carefully. "Cas, I know you might not feel able to, but we could use the link."

"For now, yes." said Cas, "But if he never wants it back ... "

"I understand. You don't want with me what you can't have with him."

"Put like that, it sounds weird." said Cas's voice in his head.

Sam closed his eyes, but there were two high-backed armchairs with red and gold upholstery in an otherwise featureless dark space and not the castle he had expected. "Where's the Krak?" he said.

"He hates that we have a castle." said Cas, "Also, I need to keep a lot of my consciousness on watching over him. It gives me less creative ability in here."

"I understand." said Sam, "It doesn't sound weird, by the way. I know what your connection with him means to you. I'm a poor substitute and if Dean doesn't ever want it opened up again, talking to me will just be a reminder."

"That's a brutal way of looking at it." said Cas.

"But not inaccurate." said Sam.

"I would love to keep the link with both of you." said Cas. Even his mental projection of himself seemed weary as he searched for a way to explain. "It's become clear to me recently that ... "

"That when Dean is not around, you barely feel you exist?"

"Yes." said Cas, in some surprise.

"I feel the same way whenever I lose him. I get it. I mean, I'm a grown man. I shouldn't still need my big brother, but I seem to need him more now."

"I'm an angel. I shouldn't need any human, but without him, I don't know who I am. Or why I am."

"We've both over-invested our identities in Dean." said Sam, "And frankly, I think it makes us better people. It certainly helps us to understand each other. It makes perfect sense to me why you wouldn't feel able to keep the link with me if he refused to re-open it with you."

"It would feel equally wrong if I kept the link with him after losing it with you. I wish we could all just be at Bobby's together."

"Or at the Krak, where we have a whole tower waiting for him. Or does the fact that he has issues with us having a castle make you want to forget about it?"

Cas blinked out of existence inside the link and then reappeared.

"Problem?" said Sam.

"I thought he was waking, but he's fine. How do we handle it when he wakes up? He may not want me around."

"I have eggs for breakfast. I'll feed him, talk to him, find out how he's doing. You focus on Jack." said Sam, "I'm optimistic. Tonight went better than I expected. Whatever you said to him out there, it had a dramatic effect."

"I really didn't say anything." said Cas, "I just found that, by sitting either side of a substantial tree, facing in opposite directions, he found the situation less confrontational and threatening."

"That's clever."

"Desperation, not cleverness. He kept running away and I felt I had to persuade him to stop running. As soon as he did stop, he started trying to talk to me. He's fighting, Sam. He's putting all his strength into breaking free of this and we both know he's strong enough to do it. He only had to want to."

"What he said about Screw Michael Night ... " said Sam, "I think that's a major leap forward. He's focusing on the right enemy. Instead of turning the anger inward, or aiming it at you, he's getting angry with Michael."

"I'm not so sure. He's still aiming a lot of anger at himself. He thinks he was weak and dumb and useless to let Michael in. He talks as if he betrayed us all, but he saved us from Lucifer."

"I wish we knew why Michael left." said Sam.

"I know why Michael left. He couldn't control Dean fully."

"That's what I think too. Dean was too strong for him. Probably filled his head with Metallica 24/7."

"Michael would never leave a vessel unless he had to. Dean forced him out. But Dean refuses to believe he won."

Both snapped out of the link at the sound of Jack coughing. Cas reached his side first. "Jack?"

"The smoke." said Jack.

"Take my place, on the other side of the fire." said Cas.

Sam gave Jack a bottle of beer. "A drink may help."

"Are you sure your cold wasn't more than a cold?" said Cas, as Jack swapped seats.

"Honestly, I'm fine." said Jack, "You worry more than you need to."


	42. Chapter 42

Dean woke to unexpected daylight and the smell of food. Sam was cooking eggs and bacon over the glowing remnants of the night's fire. The celestial contingent were nowhere to be seen.

"I must have fallen asleep." he said, "Cas gone home?" 

"Cas and Jack have gone to the stream to get water for when we douse the fire."

"Ah. Well, aren't they responsible little campers! And it's pure chance they happen to be out of range when I wake up?"

"We thought maybe it'd be better if it were just me, for a while." Sam admitted.

"In case I wake up crazy?"

"In case you feel unsafe." said Sam.

"You're not worried I'll assume they're plotting something?"

Sam tipped the food onto a tin plate and gave it to Dean with a fork. "I'm worried about just about everything right now, thanks for asking, but I think you're okay. Last night ... "

"Last night I ran away and hid behind a tree." said Dean.

Sam smiled. "You want me to leave you alone for a while, so you can beat yourself up some more?"

"Stating a fact." said Dean.

"You want coffee, or slightly warm beer?"

"Coffee would be great." said Dean, "You're being nice to me."

"Well, I figure one of us has to."

"So, they okay, Cas and Jack?"

"Jack didn't sleep as well as you did. He's a little stiff this morning and the smoke irritated his throat, but he got some sleep and he's fine."

"And Cas?"

"Cas is good. He's a lot more hopeful since you two talked last night." Sam poured the coffee.

"How much sleep did you get?" said Dean, nodding his thanks for the coffee.

"I'm not your kid brother anymore." said Sam.

"So, less than two hours."

"None, actually. I thought if you woke and only Cas was awake ... "

"Yeah, good call." said Dean. He knew exactly how he would have interpreted that, even though things had gone better than he had expected. "Sam," he said, "I thought you were crazy, bringing us all out here."

"I did wonder about that myself." said Sam.

"I mean, it could have gone very wrong."

"When you left the fire and Cas went after you, I thought maybe it had." said Sam.

"So did I." said Dean. It was a hard thing to confess, even here, without witnesses. Admitting how illogical he had been ... how divorced from reality ... to the brother who had always looked up to him was far from easy. He watched Sam's face for a while, trying to decide how much he should say. He saw no unkind judgement, only concern. "I ... " he began, but instantly stopped. A lifetime of playing the game told him not to lay this on Sammy.

Sam was looking at him, attentive and anxious, not speaking, but visibly holding back from doing so, giving him time to find his words.

"When I left the fire, I could feel the crazy bubbling up." he said, aware that there must be better words, "I've felt it since I got back, except when it takes hold, because then it feels so rational and right. When Jack told me Cas and Jules were working on something together ... working on it alone, together, I went full-on paranoid."

Sam smiled. "Jack's very innocent. I think what they were working on was their relationship."

"Yeah. By the way, when he talks about kissing ... "

"I know. It's a lot more than tonsil hockey."

"No wonder the lights flicker."

Sam responded to his grin with one of his own, but the questions still lingered in his eyes. He felt he should fall silent, keep the dark stuff to himself, protect his brother and protect himself. The last thing he wanted was Sam's pity or the doubting look that would say he was too unstable to be trusted.

As he continued to wrestle with his insecurities, Sam suddenly said, "I know you don't think you can talk about it to me ... "

"Their sex life? You're over twenty-one, kiddo." It was automatic, effortless and Sam responded to it with a look of disappointment. "Sorry." he said, "I'm not good at this."

Sam sat on the ground beside him, sipping his own coffee. "We have time."

"I'm not in control of it." Dean said at last, "Most of the time, there's no build-up, no warning. Something they do or don't do triggers it and it's there, front and centre in my head, all the hate and anger and fear and I look at Cas or the kid and all I wanna do is end them."

Sam didn't reply.

"I shouldn't ... "

"Dean, just tell me, okay?"

"You already think I'm three fries short of a Happy Meal."

"No. I don't. I think you're buried deep in this pile of archangel crap and I've been there and I know what it takes to dig yourself out and last night, that is exactly what you did."

"The crap is still there. It'll come back." said Dean.

"Yes, and you'll dig yourself out again and maybe we can help."

"When I heard Cas coming after me, I felt like I would die. I knew I couldn't hide from him and I still tried, like a kid. Now, here, in daylight, I know he's my friend. Out there, last night, he was worse than the Devil." He took a gulp of coffee, already cooling. "Sammy, I hid behind a tree, like a stupid kid."

"How did you feel when he sat down on the other side?"

"At first, terrified."

"And then ... "

"Still terrified. I spent quite a while terrified." He stared into the cup, unable to look his brother in the eye. "Then, I tried to make him leave. I knew I would say something evil ... something that would hurt him."

"And you didn't want to?"

"He didn't deserve it." said Dean, "And part of me still knew that."

"Yeah, because part of you was rejecting all the Michael stuff and holding on to what you knew to be the truth."

"You make me sound a lot stronger than I was. I was deep, deep, deep in the Michael stuff. Every word that came to mind was filled with hatred and fury and I wanted to just shout them into his face."

"Why didn't you?"

"How do you know I didn't?"

"Because you would have led with that and you said you wanted to, which means you didn't."

"You know me too well." said Dean.

"Better than you know yourself, because I like you more." said Sam, "So, you didn't because ... "

"Because it's Cas. Because he posed no immediate threat. Because the tree was there. Because I knew it was all from Michael ... all part of the poison he carried around with him. When I was ... " He stopped again. "Well, you know what it's like, archangel infestation."

"Yes, I do, which makes me the perfect person to talk to about it ... all of it. And I won't think less of you, Dean. I know how hard it is to break free, long after they are gone. I know how strong you must have been to be able to talk to Cas at all, last night."

"I didn't feel strong."

"You never do."

"Those thoughts should never have been in my head. He helped me up and I could barely touch his hand."

"You touched his hand?"

"Very briefly and it wasn't easy."

Sam shook his head. "It must have been almost impossible and you did it and you don't even think that's a big deal. Now I get why he was so happy last night."

"He was happy?" said Dean, torn between relief and suspicion.

"Yes."

Honesty seemed important. "Even now, I hear that and feel doubt about him."

"You've only been free of Michael a few days." said Sam.

"You think this will change?"

"I think it already is. When we were telling stories last night, he and Jack didn't feel like your enemies, did they?"

"That was clever, going back to the past."

"You started it. You knew how to bypass the fear and doubt."

"I think you started telling the stories." said Dean, "You're good with people. You're good with me, even when I'm a wreck."

"You're strong, Dean and you're beating this, one day at a time."

"Tomorrow, I may hate him again. Hell, by lunchtime."

"It takes time." said Sam, "Ask Sarah."

"And how long can he take this?" said Dean.

"As long as you need him to. He understands."

"He doesn't understand a thing!" said Dean.

"He understands this. He's been through it, remember? We both have. So we're here for you and we will help you as much as you let us. And I get that you don't want to let us at all, but tough, because you are not gonna go through this alone."

"I told him and now I'm telling you, I am not worth all this."

"Yeah, you've been telling me that for years. Still not buying it. You're stuck with us both. If it makes you feel better, think of it as our way of dealing with the guilt we feel for letting you get taken by Michael."

"Neither of you let that happen." said Dean.

"Then it seems unfair we should have the guilt. If only there were some way you could help us to let go of it."

"Have I ever told you you're manipulative?"

"Heaps of times. Have I ever told you you're perceptive? And also, by the way, the brother I would die for. However bad it gets, I'm here. You can fight me or yell at me or tell me you can handle it alone, but I'm here. I will always be here."

"You're even dumber than I am." said Dean, trying to hide how emotional that promise made him, but knowing he had failed.

"Yeah, I know. I've been hit on the head a lot." said Sam.


	43. Chapter 43

As soon as Sam's text appeared, saying, "Come back. Dean's fine." Cas nodded to Jack and they carried the water back to the clearing. Jack and Sam dealt with the fire and Cas took an oblique approach to Dean, as if stalking a wary prey animal. "Good morning." he said, staying about ten feet away.

"It's okay." said Dean, "I'm nice and sane this morning."

"You were sane last night, too."

"I really wasn't." said Dean. Cas wished he could take away the guilt in Dean's eyes. He knew that Dean had not forgotten anything he had said when the fear of angels was getting to him.

"It's all forgotten." he said.

"I happen to know you remember everything."

"I'd say all forgiven, but you know there was nothing to forgive."

"I wish I could say it won't happen again." said Dean.

"It almost certainly will." said Cas, "And it won't be your fault then, either."

Dean looked at Jack, happily busy with Sam. Cas found himself smiling. There was no hostility in the glance. "How's he doing?" said Dean.

"He's doing fine." said Cas, "I think he had a good time last night."

"Every kid needs a few campfires." said Dean.

"I enjoyed it too, once you rejoined the party."

Dean turned to watch Sam, carefully soaking the embers of the fire, raking them out with a shovel from the trunk, taking apart the makeshift couches on which they had spent the night, removing all trace. John Winchester must have taught them that and now Sam was explaining the need for it to Jack, who hung on his every word. Cas watched them and then looked at Dean's shoulders, upright and alert, making the transition from the camaraderie of the night to the loneliness of every single day. He could feel Dean backing away inside, not from hatred or fear, this time, but simply because Dean Winchester did not lean on anyone unless he happened to be dying.

Another great Winchester myth, that the strong stand alone. Cas wondered whether he could stop the inevitable slide back into solitary suffering. He decided he had to try.

"Do you trust me?" he said.

"Yes." said Dean, without hesitation.

"Well, that's more certainty than I was expecting."

"For now, I'm in control." said Dean, "The real me, not that pathetic mess Michael left behind. The real me trusts you, always."

"Both are you. It's you and you, fighting it out. Same old story every time." said Cas.

"Which do you think will win?"

"The one with the sense to accept allies." said Cas.

Dean shrugged. "Hard to involve allies in a fight that's taking place inside your head."

"Also pretty tough if you think asking for help is a sign of weakness."

"You know it's not that."

"I know it is that. Praying is like begging. Admitting you need us is tantamount to declaring yourself helpless. And yet, when I've asked you for help, you've always given it and never despised me for asking."

"I already had the 'You're not doing this alone.' speech from Sam. Well, maybe I can do this alone. You've underestimated me before."

"Of course you can do it alone." said Cas, "You survived forty years of Hell alone. Nobody is doubting your strength or ability."

"Well, then ... "

"You could walk back to the bunker alone," said Cas, "But it's a long walk and you'd be stupid to do it when you have the Impala."

"For you, that's a good metaphor."

"Are you being sarcastic?"

"No, I'm being impressed. Take the compliment."

"Gladly and gratefully, if it's not just your way of distracting me from the matter at hand." said Cas.

"When does anything ever distract you?" said Dean.

Cas nodded. "I know. I'm annoyingly focused most of the time. I understand why you and Jules hate angels."

"I told you, this me doesn't hate you. Other angels maybe ... some of them have it coming."

"Agreed."

"I don't hate you. Well, sometimes now I do, but I don't want to."

"Thanks for fighting it. It means a lot to me." 

Dean looked a little confused, or perhaps uneasy. 

Cas stepped back. "How do you feel?" he said.

Dean considered for a moment and then nodded. "I'm okay. We're okay."

Cas stepped cautiously forward, keeping his hands by his sides. He took another step, then another, but froze as he saw Dean's shoulders tense.

"Damn it!" said Dean.

"Not your fault." said Cas, stepping back. 

Dean breathed deeply and relaxed. Then a look of determination came over his face. "Screw Michael and all angels!" he said.

"All?" said Cas.

"All but one." said Dean, starting to walk towards Cas.

"Dean, you don't need to ... "

"Or all. I'm fine with all." said Dean, stopping a few feet from him.

Cas raised his hands in surrender. "Okay. I just thought you shouldn't put too much pressure on yourself."

"Pressure is what gets things done." He took another step forward. "No stinkin' archangel is gonna choose my friends for me." Another few steps followed and they were less than two feet apart. "There? See? I can beat this!"

"Yes, you can, nobody doubts that."

"I did, but I'm getting hopeful now." said Dean.

"And do you want to do it alone?" said Cas.

"It's not a matter of what I want."

"That is exactly and only what it is." said Cas.

"Sam didn't sleep last night."

"And you think knowing you're shutting him out, yet again will gently lull him to Slumberland?"

"Listen, smartass ... "

"Why is smartass more of an insult to you than dumbass?" said Cas.

Dean turned to look at his brother again. "He's tired. He thinks he can hide it, but not from me."

"Watching you refuse our help is exhausting." said Cas.

"I haven't refused your help. You're both making it very difficult to refuse your help."

"Clearly, we need to make it impossible."

"When we go up against Michael ... "

"We'll need to work as a team. If you can't trust me or Jack, we'll lose. To fight alone is to fail. You know that." said Cas.

"Okay, now both mes hate you." said Dean, but the slight curl of the corners of his mouth said he was lying.

"Well, I'm happy to have helped you find inner peace." said Cas.


	44. Chapter 44

On the way back to the bunker, the music was playing more quietly than usual. Jack fell asleep and Cas returned to gazing out of the window. Dean seemed to be in good spirits and drove a little too fast. Sam felt good about the night by the fire. There was a lot less tension in the car now. It felt as if they were all back on the same team.

"You should take a nap." said Dean.

"You're not my Mom." said Sam, smirking.

"I can call Mom. I can make Mom tell you to sleep."

"You can't make her do anything. She's a Winchester and she was a Campbell first."

Dean grinned. "True." He looked back at Cas. "Hey, Cas, you doing okay back there?"

"Yes." said Cas, "Don't wake Jack."

"Are we sure Jack's okay?" said Dean quietly.

"Jack says he's okay." said Sam.

"That's not a yes." said Dean.

"No." said Sam.

"Let me worry about him." said Cas, "Sam, Dean's right."

"Always." said Dean.

"Not even eighty percent of the time." said Sam.

"But you should sleep." said Cas.

"I'm not tired." said Sam, "You two need to stop this obsession with how much or how little I sleep. You both have other things to think about."

"I like to think my mind is big enough to always have some capacity available for worrying about my little brother." said Dean.

"Your little brother is ... "

"Age is just a number." said Dean.

Cas leant forward, so his head was between the front seats. He spoke quietly to Sam, but clearly enough for Dean to hear. "Sam, your brother is using your tiredness as an excuse to shake off our help."

Sam looked at Dean. "You said you wouldn't do that."

"I didn't do that. Who are you gonna believe, me or the angel?"

"The one with no reason to lie." said Sam.

"Thankyou, Sam." said Cas, "So you'll try to sleep so Dean has no possible excuse?"

"Not here, not now." said Sam, "I need to know everybody is safely home before I waste time sleeping."

Dean turned to Cas, "You see what I mean? 'Waste time'? You see why I worry about the kid."

"Not a kid." mumbled Jack without waking.

"Neither am I, Dean." said Sam, "So, what's everyone doing when we get back?"

"I need to talk to Jules." said Cas.

"Yes you do!" said Dean.

"I make no promises ... "

"To me or to her?"

"To anyone." said Cas.

"Cas, the time has come for you to get over all those insane insecurities and get to the stuff that's not safe for work."

"Our work is never safe." said Cas, baffled.

"Dean, you're confusing him again." said Sam.

"He confuses himself!"

"Are you fighting?" said Jack, suddenly awake.

"No." said Cas, "Go back to sleep."

"I wasn't asleep. I was resting my eyes." said Jack, "Why are you fighting?"

"We're not." said Dean, "We're having a lively discussion about why this dick screws up everything he ever does."

"Dean!" said Sam. He turned to look at Cas whose eyes flashed anger, but who quickly controlled himself. "Cas, he's not himself." said Sam.

"He's also not wrong." said Cas. Sam could see his spirits sinking.

"He is wrong!" said Sam.

"You're outvoted." said Dean.

"Stop this!" said Jack.

"It's stopped." said Cas, leaning back and staring out of the window again.

"Dean, say something to him." said Sam.

"It's not him who disagrees with me." said Dean.

"Well, I disagree with you." said Jack.

Dean shrugged. "You're a damn baby." he said.

"I'm a legitimate target." said Cas, "Jack isn't."

"Last I heard, I hadn't signed up to your rules of engagement." said Dean.

"I didn't think you needed any. I thought you had honour." said Cas.

Dean pulled over to the side of the road. "Right, you wanna walk home? Go ahead. Get out of my car."

"Dean," said Sam, "Is this really the way you wanna go?"

Dean turned off the ignition and got out of the car. Sam watched him walk a short way down the road. He resisted the urge to follow. He stayed in the car, watching over the two celestials, both of which had clearly taken the unkind words to heart.

"It's my fault." said Cas.

"It's not." said Jack, "It's Dean."

"It's Michael." said Sam.

Dean came back and banged on the roof of the car. "Castiel, get out here for a minute."

"If he's walking, so am I." said Jack.

Dean handed the car keys to Jack. "I just need to talk to him."

"Are you sure that's wise, without me?" said Sam.

"I promise, I won't make this worse." said Dean.

Cas got out of the car and they walked over to the roadside. There was a whispered conversation and Cas nodded a few times, then they returned to the car and got in.

"Jack," said Dean, "I'm sorry. You are not a baby. I never should have said that. I never should have thought it. I'm a jerk." He looked at Sam. "Are you fit to drive?"

"Yes." said Sam.

"Good. We're stopping at Ionia on the way. From there, you'll drive these two home."

"Your idea, or Cas's?"

"His." said Cas, "But I approve it."

"I'm not okay," said Dean, "And the things I've been saying? They're not okay either. So I'll spend some time at Sarah's and see if she can help me get my stupid head straight. Any objections?"

"No." said Sam, "Except to the word stupid, which you have never been."

"Sam, I know what I am."

"You have no idea what you are." said Cas.

"No more arguments, okay? I am dealing with this in a mature and sensible way." said Dean.

"Yes, you are." said Sam, "But can you do something for me?"

"Depends what it is."

"That voice in your head saying this represents a failure? Tell it to take a hike. Last night, you beat Michael. Today, you're doing it again. Victory after victory. I want you to remember that."

Dean smiled sadly. "Still trying to save me from myself?"

"Always will." said Sam.

"It's not a victory until Michael is dead." said Dean.

"Will you forgive yourself then?" said Sam.

"For letting him in? I will never forgive myself for that."

"Then that still won't be a victory." said Sam.

Dean held out his hand to Jack. "Keys?"

Jack dropped the keys into the palm of Dean's hand.

"How will you get home from Ionia?" said Sam as Dean pulled out onto the road again.

"I'll call and someone can pick me up." said Dean, "But not you, because you'll be sleeping."

"You know I don't need sleep that much. You just don't want to have to spend half an hour talking to me."

"I'm not trying to avoid you, Sam. I'm trying to avoid being another millstone around your neck."

"How are those different things?" said Sam.

"They're different."

"In small, insignificant ways." said Cas.

"One is rejection, the other the opposite." said Dean.

"Both involve you walking away from me, yet again." said Sam.

Dean was getting angry. "I have never walked away from you!" he said.

"When I needed you, no, but when you need me, you run a mile."

"If I needed you, I wouldn't be able to. You're talking nonsense."

"When we get to the bunker, I can put Sam to sleep and wake him when you're ready to be picked up." said Cas, "Then you can disprove Sam's ridiculous idea that you're trying to avoid talking to him."

"Damn manipulative angels!" muttered Dean.

"It's only manipulative if you are trying to avoid him." said Cas.

Dean turned up the music and glared at the road ahead.


	45. Chapter 45

At the farm, Dean gave the car keys to Sam and left the car without another word. He didn't look at any of his companions. He still felt bad about the things he had said. 

He knocked on the door and then realised he had not considered what he was going to say. Behind him, he heard the car doors as Sam got out and went to the driver's seat.

The door opened and Sarah looked him up and down. "Come in, Dean." she said, taking his arm, "You smell of woodsmoke." He heard the car drive away.

"We were in the woods." he said, "We had a campfire. Jack loved it."

She took him into the parlour. "Sit down." she said, "I'll get some tea and cookies."

"You don't have to do that." he said, sitting down.

"You've lost your taste for cookies?" she said.

"No, I haven't."

"Good. Then that's what I'm doing. You make yourself comfortable."

She went into the kitchen and he heard her filling the kettle. "You haven't asked why I'm here." he said.

"You don't need a reason to be here." she said.

He leant back on the couch, feeling all the nervous energy and pretence drain out of him. It was too hard to keep acting like nothing was wrong and it was unnecessary, because she knew he wouldn't be there if things were fine.

Sitting there, he knew he couldn't tell her how far from fine things were. The others wanted him to be honest, with them and with her, but he needed to believe in the myth of the strong, unbreakable Dean Winchester, even though he had always known it for a lie. Maybe he needed her to believe it. He certainly wanted Sam to, but Sam, it seemed, was no longer fooled, if he ever had been.

He looked at the floor by the doorway and realised he had trodden mud and leaves into her parlour. "Oh, Hell!" he said.

"What's wrong?" she said from the kitchen.

"I just dragged half the forest in on my boots." he said.

She came in. "Give me your boots. I'll clean them in the kitchen."

"My job, not yours." he said.

"I decide who does what in my own house." she said. She fixed him with a look and he meekly removed his boots and gave them to her.

"I'll clean the floor." he said.

"You'll put your feet up and wait for your tea." she said, "The floor will survive a bit of mud." She gestured to the end of the couch until he put his feet there. "A few weeks ago, Castiel was lying there. It took all of us to calm him down."

"When he thought I was dead?" said Dean.

"You must never do that to him again. Even if his heart can take it, mine can't."

"I do worse things, these days." he said.

"Tea!" she said, hurrying into the kitchen.

"Can I do something?" he said.

"You can do lots of things, but I'm not so old and frail I can't manage a pot of tea."

"I never said you were." he said.

When she came back with the tray and put it down on the small coffee table, he sat up, feet on the floor. She smiled at him and said, "I'm not reporting to Sam or your mother. I take no notes. Whatever it is you don't want to tell me, only I need ever know."

"I came here to tell you." he said.

"I'm here to listen. What happened last night?"

"Last night was mostly good. I talked to Cas. I talked to Sam. I probably talked more than I should to both."

"Lost your plausible deniability?"

"My Michael issues should not be their problem."

"I agree." she said.

"You do?"

"Of course I do. You should deal with it on your own, just like Sam should keep his Lucifer issues to himself."

"No, the Lucifer thing is different."

"Only because it's Sam." she said.

"Anyway, we talked. I told them stuff."

"Stuff you now wish you hadn't said?"

He thought about it. "No. When I was ... When Michael ... When ... "

"Yes, dear, then ... "

"When you're possessed, you're alone, cut off from everyone, even from yourself. It's cold and dead and empty and ... " He looked into her kindly blue eyes and said, "It's hard to talk about."

"I think being bereaved is similar. It feels as if the world is going on without you and you have no-one to turn to."

"And you're resigned to it and you accept it as normal. Normal for being possessed by an archangel, anyway."

"And then you make it home and someone you've always taken care of offers you unconditional love and support and you struggle to accept it, but you're finally able to and then you're afraid that you're accepting something you can never repay, something you cannot possibly deserve."

"Yes." said Dean, stunned by how effortlessly she had encapsulated the situation.

"Maybe we need to look a little more closely at the word 'unconditional' for a while."

"I know in theory, I don't need to deserve it or repay it or even understand it. All they want is to help me and I need their help, but this thing inside me ... this pit where my soul used to be ... It's deep, Sarah and it's greedy and it could suck the life and joy out of everybody I know and still not be filled."

Sarah handed him a cup of tea and said, "I'm very old, my dear."

"I've known ladies a lot older." he said.

"And I know you pretty well, now."

"Yes." he said.

"So I hope you won't mind if I resist the urge to beat my head uselessly against this steel wall and instead ask you what you would say if Sam said that."

"About the pit?"

"Yes, about the pit."

Usually, he would have lied, but that never worked with Sarah. Distraction was also going to get him nowhere. In the end, his only option was to seriously consider the question.

"I'd say, 'Sammy, stop making excuses. Stop trying to pretend this isn't my fight. Lucifer didn't change you. You fought him and you won and you only came out more Sam.' But I didn't come out more Dean, Sarah. And I didn't defeat my fallen archangel."

"You didn't? Does that mean he's here with us now?"

"God, I hope not!"

"I don't think he is. I don't think I see anything but you and what you'd say to Sam applies to you too."

"I might also tell him what Cas told me. 'To fight alone is to fail.'" he said.

"Castiel makes a good point."

"Yes, he does." said Dean.

"What happened that you're afraid to tell me?"

"Last night, I ran off into the woods and Cas came after me and we sat in the dark and I could only talk to him because there was a tree between us. It was the only way I felt safe."

"Trees block his powers?" she said.

"No, not at all." he said, "Although he would usually need to touch me to smite me, there's a lot he can do at a distance."

"But even knowing that, you felt safe?" 

"Yes. Safer."

"Maybe it's not his powers you fear, but his judgement. The shame you carry is entirely undeserved. I know that makes it no less real, but he doesn't see anything you've done as shameful."

"Maybe that was a part of it, last night, but then, in the car, I yelled at him and at Jack and that was fear, not shame. Last night, I overcame the fear. Today, it was making me crazy again. I hurt them both. I called Jack a baby."

"What did you call Castiel?"

"What I said to him was the worst thing I could have said. I told him something he already believes about himself. I watched the light die in his eyes. When I say stuff like that, he doesn't even doubt it."

"Of course not. He has no idea why you would lie to him."

"It didn't feel like a lie. It felt true."

"And does it now, when he's not here, being an angel?"

"No." he said, "I took it back. I apologised, but that doesn't unsay the things I said."

"You can't say what it was, can you?" she said.

"Do I need to? I don't even want to remember. But you know what? He'll remember. He'll remember and every time something goes wrong, he'll remember me saying it's always his fault. I wish Michael had finished the job. There's some dignity in death."

"More dignity in fighting to survive and be free." she said.

"What do I do now?" he said.

"Still I, not we?" she said.

"I don't know how to ask for help."

"It seems to me that you don't need to ask. You just need to stop fighting it off."

"I don't know how to do that, either. I can't keep hurting them."

"You let them help you, last night."

"Yes." he said.

"And that made them feel better, didn't it?"

"I think so."

"And you say you love them. Love them enough to let them be a part of your life, not the audience, seeing the best version, the stagehands, helping to make it work."


	46. Chapter 46

Mary and Jules were in the garage before Sam, Cas and Jack got out of the car. "Where's Dean?" said Mary, as Sam had known she would.

"Ionia." he said getting out, "He wanted to see Sarah."

Cas went over to Jules and hugged her.

"I missed you." she said, "How did it go with Dean?"

"It was good." he said, "Dean is slowly coming back to us." They kissed ardently and he said, "You and I need to talk."

"About?"

"Sex." he said.

"You have my full attention."

"But first I need to put Sam to sleep. I promised Dean."

"Cas, not a priority." said Sam, "You focus on Jules."

"I gave my word."

"I didn't give mine." said Sam, "You saw what happened in the car. You saw why I need to be awake and available to deal with flare-ups like that."

"Yes." said Cas, "But Dean isn't here, so get some rest while you can."

"What happened in the car?" said Jules.

"It doesn't matter." said Cas.

"Did you and Dean fight?" she asked.

"No. He said something."

"Something he didn't mean." said Sam.

"Of course he didn't. It was a reaction to the way Michael treated him. It was a moment of irrational anger, driven by pain. It had no relevance to me whatsoever."

"That's right." said Sam.

"It's not Dean's fault it happened to be true." said Cas.

"What did he say?" said Jules.

"Is Dean okay?" said Mary.

"Mom, Jules, Cas and I need to talk about this. We'll answer all your questions later."

"Is Dean okay?" his mother repeated.

"Dean decided he needed to talk to Sarah. That's a lot more okay than he usually is." he said, "Jack, Netflix. Cas, my room, now."

When they got there, Sam closed the door behind them and said, "My brother has a talent for saying whatever will get under your skin. He's been doing it to me all his life."

"Yes, I'm aware of that. You really don't have to worry about me. What he said just rolled off right away. He didn't mean it."

"And the main reason he didn't mean it is because it isn't true."

"It's demonstrably true."

"You don't screw up everything."

"Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, Earth, friendships, love, sex, hunting, negotiation, Charlie. Every angel lost their wings because of me."

"Cas ... "

"I know you want to make me feel better and that's kind of you, but truth, reality ... they're not so kind."

"Dean will hate himself for making you feel this way."

"No he won't." said Cas.

"The real Dean, I mean. And he will."

"He won't. because we won't ever tell him."

"You'll just take the hit? Say nothing? Suffer in silence?"

"It's easier for everyone."

"How is that easier for you?" said Sam.

"I'm used to it. And I know he didn't mean it."

"But you think he was right."

"I know he was right and so does he, so he has no reason to feel guilty. He stated a fact."

"He called you a dick."

"Angels are dicks."

"You're not."

Cas looked at him pityingly, as if he were the one whose heart was being broken. "Sam, this is not the first time Dean has drawn attention to my failings."

"I know. He's been a jerk lots of times."

"He's not a jerk, just a little tactless. A person taking it less personally might call him honest. It's not his fault that being reminded of my flaws is painful to me."

"If someone stabbed you in the back, you'd apologise for blunting their knife on your spine."

"How can you be angry with Dean at a time like this?"

"I'm not, Cas, I'm as worried about him as I am about you. This is not healthy for either of you. He knows what he said and he knows it hurt you."

"It didn't." said Cas.

"You just said it did."

"It's unfair to use my words against me." 

"I'm not using anything against you."

"Any attack on Dean hurts me." 

"I'm not attacking Dean."

"He didn't mean it, you don't agree with it. Can't we just forget he ever said it?"

"Can you?" said Sam.

The answer was clear in Cas's eyes, even as he stood there, unwilling to say it in words.

"Thought not." said Sam, "I think, under the circumstances, you should delay your conversation with Jules."

"Why?" said Cas, "Because I'll screw it up?"

"Because, right now, I think you want to, just so it doesn't look like Dean was being unfair."

"That's the stupidest thing you've ever said," said Cas, "And you say a lot of dumb things."

Sam knew Cas wanted to make him angry. When he fell short of the expectations placed upon him by them or by Heaven, it was as if he wanted to be hurt. His guilt demanded punishment. He and Dean were so alike in some ways.

Sam had no intention of lashing out at either of them, however much they provoked him. "Cas," he said gently, "Just bear in mind that the whole problem with Jules is that you are afraid of getting things wrong. Don't let it be a self-fulfilling prophecy."

Cas had not expected that. He was momentarily lost for words.

"You have a right to be happy." said Sam, taking advantage of the verbal ceasefire.

Castiel's shoulders slumped a little. "I don't think I know how." he said.

"Life is all about learning." said Sam.

"Angels struggle with that."

"Yeah, like Dean said, all but one."

Cas fixed him with a questioning look. "Why do you believe in me, Sam?"

"Because I know you, Cas. What did Dean say to you, outside the car?"

"He said his tongue should be cut out. He said he didn't mean what he said. He said he wished I was as deaf to the bad stuff as I am to the good. He asked me to forgive him."

"So, he knows what he said was wrong."

"He knows it was hurtful. That doesn't make it any less true."

"If you really forgive him, you'll forget what he said."

"It's not him I have to forgive to get that out of my mind." said Cas.

"No, it's not. So forgive yourself for having sometimes made mistakes."

There was a long silence, then Cas said, "I'll try."

"And don't let what he said wreck your chances with Jules."

Cas nodded.

"Okay. Go talk to her."

"First, I need to zap you."

"If I let you, you have to promise not to need me while I'm asleep, because if I wake up and you've broken up with Jules, that's gonna haunt me forever."

"Everything will be fine." said Cas, "I can get through a morning without being supervised by my guardian hunter."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I know you can. I just need you to remember it."

"You know what I love about my angelic powers?" said Cas.

"What?" said Sam.

"They are the only things I know that can make a Winchester shut up."

Before Sam could answer, he felt Cas touch his forehead and he fell into a deep sleep.


	47. Chapter 47

Cas sat on his bed with Jules and wondered how best to say the things that needed to be said if they were ever going to have the kind of relationship every other couple on the planet seemed to find so easy to organise.

"This is very complicated for me." he said.

She nodded. "I know it is."

"So, with your permission, I'm going to say some things that may not make sense to you."

"I'm used to that." she said.

"And I've recently been reminded that I screw up everything I do and this, I know I will screw up. So I need to know that, when I screw it up and say something you hate or panic and try to end our relationship, you'll give me another chance."

"I promise." she said, "If it helps, I think you're only this stressed because we're on the verge of some real progress."

He kissed her. "I love the way you look at things."

"Just talk to me, Cas. I promise I won't stop loving you just because you get a little tongue-tied."

"I want sex." he said suddenly, aiming for direct and honest but sounding, even to himself, abrupt and demanding. "I don't mean now." he clarified, "I mean one day. I mean, I want it if you want it."

"I thought that was what you meant." she said.

"And I think that means that I need to overcome my fears and accept the risk of being overcome with sensations and emotions that scare me."

"You make sex with me sound horrific." she said, "You don't fear torture or death, but you're afraid of what I might do to you in bed?"

"No!" he said. "Yes." he said. "No." he said again. He remembered Dean talking about how being overwhelmed was something to be desired ... something humans desperately wanted. "I've been afraid of not being in control of my feelings, but Dean's right."

"About whatever he said in the car?" said Jules.

"No. Something he said last night. He said I was wrong to be afraid, because the whole point of love is to be overwhelmed with feelings."

"Are you finally ready to let that happen?" she said.

"No. I don't think I ever will be. There's never going to be a time when the thought doesn't scare me, but maybe the fear doesn't matter. Maybe, if I get past the fear, I can learn to love being helpless in a maelstrom of emotion and surrendering to physical sensations this Heaven-baffled mind can scarcely comprehend."

"That's something I was meaning to ask you. A lot of the angelologists say the human soul in the vessel helps to filter and interpret human feelings and physical responses for the angel. When you had Jimmy, did he help you with that?"

"I think he did, yes." said Cas.

"Which could be why things are so difficult for you now, because Jimmy isn't there as a buffer."

"You could be right, but there are other considerations."

"Such as ... ?"

"Would you even contemplate getting naked with me if there were two of us in this body?"

"That's a very good point." she said, I honestly don't know. The whole going around in someone else's body is weird anyway, but I think it would feel even weirder, knowing we had a witness. I've never wanted a threesome."

"Maybe you're right and an angel without a human to share the vessel cannot partake in human relationships."

"I didn't say that. This is a relationship and we're in it."

But it wasn't a real relationship, was it? Dean found it ridiculous.

"Dean is right." he said, "I screw up everything."

"No, Cas, you don't." she said.

He could feel the tumblers falling into place, in his head, locking into old, safe, predictable patterns, telling him to avoid the high stakes, prevent pain for her and for himself. Since there was no chance of happiness for either of them, the best thing was to give up and at least reduce their losses.

Which had been exactly what Sam had been warning him against. Sam believed he could make this relationship work and Sam was fond of Jules and would never want to see her hurt.

He looked into her beautiful eyes and said, "Jules, I am hopeless."

"I love you anyway." she said, then she smiled. "Just kidding. You're not hopeless."

"I'm glad that was the part you were kidding about." he said.

She kissed him and for a moment, he forgot his fears and pulled her close, until they were rolling around on the bed. The compatibility of lips and limbs was unquestionable. Only his mind could not be trusted.

"I think too much." he said.

"Maybe, but think some more. What do you want to do about this?"

He knew what Dean would say, be brave and trust that it will work out. Sam would tell him to give the relationship a chance and stop sabotaging it. "Are you sure this is the relationship you want?" he said.

"I never wanted one more in my life." she said.

"I want it too. I may not be allowed it ... may not even be capable of it ... but I want it."

"I love you." she said.

"I'm afraid it could take a while to get over these stupid doubts and fears."

"How about we pick a first step? One thing you think we can do."

"I could try shedding some clothes." he said.

"Good! So tonight, you take your shirt off. Agreed?"

"I may freak out. I may become irrational. I may be overwhelmed with lust."

"On account of how gorgeous I am?" she said, as if it amused her.

"Well, yes." he said, "Dean says it's a good feeling, but I think it's probably better if you're not terrified of it."

"What's the worst thing that could happen?" she said.

"Heaven could become aware and smite us both."

She smiled. "Open your shirt there for me, Castiel."

He undid the buttons and opened it. She ran a hand lightly over his chest. "Hmm," she said, "So worth it."

"I'm serious."

"You think I'm not? You know, as soon as you get brave enough to get naked, I can show you some kissing you are really going to like."

"I've liked all the kissing so far." he said.

"Bigger and better things later, I promise."

Her hand was on his chest again and his vessel, even without the human component, was in no doubt of how it wanted to respond. 

"This feels distinctly unsafe." he said.

"Do you need me to back off?" she asked.

"No. That's the opposite of what I need."

"Okay. There is one rule. Any time you need this to stop, you say 'Stop.' and it ends. Does that make you feel safe?"

"Safer." he said.


	48. Chapter 48

  
"Ha!" said Dean, looking at the message from Cas. "Look at that! 'Your brother is asleep!' I knew Cas could do it!"

"Of course he could." said Sarah, smiling.

"Of course he could. I keep trying to get Sam to take a rest, but it's like he's never off duty. He can never just let go and let us muddle through on our own."

"He wants to protect his brother." she said.

"Yeah, I know. His brother who's been protecting him for like, his whole life."

"That could be why." she said, "He may feel he owes you."

Dean was barely listening to her. He kept rereading the text. "Well, he's asleep now. He never takes care of himself."

"He eats more sensibly than some I've met."

"Carbs are fuel."

"Sleeps more, too."

"He once didn't sleep for a year! And I slept last night. You know what? I woke up feeling good, not just a little less tired, but actually rested. I should sleep in the woods more often." He read the text once more and then sent back, "Thanks."

"I love seeing you happy." she said.

"When Sam is safe, I'm always happy."

"And he couldn't be safer than with Castiel."

"No, he couldn't." he said, then he paused. The thought went unchallenged. He felt no anxiety about Sam being with Cas, no horror at the thought that Cas had put him to sleep. A little over an hour before, he had spoken harshly to Cas and now all that hostility was gone ... well, not gone, but buried. "What's happened?" he said.

"What's happened is that you're once again asserting your free will and remembering who your family are. At this moment, how do you feel about Castiel?"

"Cas is great. I love Cas." he said. Then he thought about what he had said earlier. "Of course, I also messed up his chances with Jules by reminding him of everything that scares him, just when he'd decided to try to face those fears. I am the worst friend on the planet."

"I don't think you are, Dean and he doesn't either, or he would stop caring about you and whether you're worrying about Sam."

"The Sam thing is just because Sam wants to come pick me up and I said no, because he needs sleep and they thought that was an excuse."

"And was it?"

"He did need sleep." he said.

"When the Michael matter is settled, you should both come here and get some actual rest."

"Our life doesn't really allow for vacations."

"Which is why you're all so volatile."

"Maybe." he conceded with a smile.

"I don't think it was an excuse." she said.

"You don't?"

"I think you want that half hour drive with Sam. I think you wanted to ask him to come, but you couldn't make yourself ask. You pretended to make an excuse you knew would never stop him."

"Wow. You make me sound very calculating."

"Not at all. You didn't know that's what you were doing."

"So, calculating and dumb." he said coldly.

"You tend to get angry when I draw your attention to a side of you that you don't want to acknowledge."

"Deceitful, calculating and dumb."

"And you'll keep on doubling down to avoid talking about it."

"Then maybe we just shouldn't talk about it." he said, trying to sound reasonable.

"But maybe the same part of you that wants Sam in the car with you wants to talk about it."

"I have no idea what to say to that." he admitted.

She smiled. "Thankyou, my dear."

"For what?"

"For dropping the mask. I know it's not easy."

"It's not, especially when I don't know I'm wearing one. Coming here is always a risk."

"If you really don't want to talk about it, we can talk about something else. Coming here is a kindness to me and I have no right to make any demands of you or your brothers."

"Sometimes, I don't feel like I'm properly here. I feel like I'm in the back seat and someone else is driving."

She nodded.

"You're not gonna tell me that's crazy?"

"No, everything you're feeling now makes sense. That doesn't mean it's literally true. Freedom and self-control mean everything to you and you were a prisoner and you had no power over your own life. Even now that's over, you worry that it isn't, or that it could come back. That fear is part of the experience of possession. Sam also has it, so does Castiel."

"It could also be true. Michael had his reasons for letting me go and maybe the truth is that he didn't."

"But here and now, you seem very much yourself."

"Whether he's left the building or not, he corrupted me."

"No. He wounded you."

"I feel his evil inside me, especially when I hurl insults at Cas."

"Before Michael, you felt corrupted and evil."

"Yes, but not so deeply."

"The shame you feel is because you are a good man. You think Michael ever feels shame?" She spoke softly. "You told me that you want Sam with you, that you want to get into the car with him and drive. You want to talk to Sam, but you're afraid to. You know as well as I do that he will never change his opinion of you."

Dean thought for a moment, then nodded. "I know." he said.

"Of course, if he still sees you as good, you may have to see yourself that way too. Is it easier to see yourself as evil and corrupt than to acknowledge yourself a victim? Have you ever allowed yourself to accept that you were a victim of anything?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Just that I remember you admitting you blamed yourself for your mother's death when you were a terrified child of four years old."

"I didn't try to save her." he said.

"There was nothing you could do. Is that what you're afraid of with Sam? That he'll see you as weak and helpless?"

"Maybe. Though if he doesn't already, he's probably not paying attention."

"You carried Sam out of the burning building. You saved your brother's life."

"I couldn't save Mom's." he said, "That will never be okay."

"Exactly. You couldn't. It wasn't that you didn't care."

"I didn't try."

"If you had, you would be dead, probably Sam too. I know your mother. That is not what she would have wanted."

"I can't talk about this anymore." he said.

"Okay." she said, "Why don't I make us another pot of tea?"


	49. Chapter 49

"How are we doing on the skin to skin contact?" said Jules, trailing kisses across Cas's bare chest and up to his shoulder. "Is it freaking you out yet?" she whispered in his ear.

He laughed, the sound strange in his ears. It had been a long time since he had felt such pure joy. He was happy and he was aware that he should not think too deeply about it in case he banished it.

She sat up and looked into his eyes. "You beautiful, sweet, celestial being." she said, "I love you."

"I love you." he said. He stroked her cheek. "I know how every atom of you is arranged. I hear the commands that tell your body how to exist in this shape. I understand your composition and intelligence, but I will never know where this beauty came from that exists only in you ... in us ... in this."

She kissed him and he tried not to let the way her breasts brushed against his chest drive all other thoughts from his head, but then he remembered what Dean had said and he closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel that incredible rush of desire.

"Are you okay?" she said.

He laughed again, "On whose scale?" He reached out and felt his hand close around her forearm. Lightly encircling it with his fingers, he followed it down to the hand, which he held with reverence. "I will never be okay again. Who would want to be when this is the alternative?"

She smiled. "I'm not sure if you're just very happy or if things are short-circuiting in your brain."

"I don't know either," he said, "Or care. If this is the entropic ending of an overloaded, organic human brain, I'm fine with it. This is ... " he opened his eyes and stared up above his head, where brightly coloured sparks and spirals of light were dancing and said, "Just beautiful!"

"Maybe you need a break." she said.

He squeezed her hand. "No. If you need a break, we can take a break, but I don't need one or want one and if your body stops being close to my body, I may die."

"Die?" she said.

"It's possible. Feels almost certain. I could die of loneliness. This feeling ... this ... it's like belonging ... like existing, being real." He closed his eyes again and grinned. "I am really not making any sense at all."

"I don't care." she said, "I love it all."

"This feeling ... " he began again.

"It's called being loved." she said.

"Oh. Oh, well then I understand now, why it matters. How does anyone who has known it ever live without it?"

Her hand went limp in his. "Loss is part of love, for humans, anyway." she said.

He opened his eyes. "I'm sorry. My mind was hijacking my mouth."

"Castiel, before things go any further between us, I have to tell you something."

He tried to sit up. "It's not that you don't love me?"

She gently pushed him back onto the pillows. "I love you more than I have ever loved anyone." she said, "It's about the day my brother died. I think you should know who I am."

"Whatever it is, you don't want to tell me." he said, "So I don't need to hear it."

"It's about why I don't ... "

"The love I feel for you is not conditional on anything that happened in the past or what you are or think you are. If telling me will bring you peace, I will hear it and listen with everything I have, but if you're just trying to confess some guilt I won't even see as a sin because you think it will make a difference to how I feel about you, it won't, so don't."

"It's the reason I can't pray to you now."

"You have, twice." he said, "I mean it, if you need to speak to heal, then say all the words waiting behind your lips, but you owe me no confessions or explanations or revelations."

"I love you, Cas, but I need to say this, not for my healing ... there is no healing for me, but because I need to tell you the truth. If you're going to decide I'm not someone you can love, I need it to be now."

"I won't, but tell me."

"The demon tore him apart and he lived and suffered for what seemed like forever. I prayed then, Cas. I begged God to kill him faster. I asked God to kill my baby brother."

"Juliette," he said quietly, "You wanted his suffering to end. You did not ask for his death. His death was certain. You begged for it to end."

She fell onto the bed beside him, sobbing. He drew her into his arms and held her tightly. He knew his words meant nothing to her. This was a reaction to years of buried grief. The guilt had been part of the detritus she had shovelled on top of her terrible loss, a distraction, self-loathing being preferable to acknowledging that he was gone.

The touch of her flesh on his no longer felt erotic, but it was no less powerful. The close contact seemed to give her some comfort and he wondered if she could have bared her soul if their torsos had not already been naked.

He knew now why she had told Dean, but had not been able to tell him. He knew too that Dean would never have judged her or made the pain worse. He had offered, as was his way, only comfort and understanding. The compassionate absolution of Dean Winchester, given freely to anyone who needed it ... anyone apart from himself.

That was why she could say it to him now and he was glad she had. Grief and guilt were familiar territory to him and he could help her through them.

"I ruined the moment, didn't I?" she sobbed.

"No, my love." he said, "This feels like a bigger step than all of the others. Your trust is a gift beyond price."

"I've tried to leave this stuff behind in that dead world."

"Guilt has a way of surviving anything. You have no reason to feel guilt, but I know how little reason is needed. I know what it is to lose someone, even to be responsible for their death, which you were not. I know how pain can convince you of culpability. I know how guilt can become a barrier ... a shield against the raw pain of loss."

"I loved my brother." she said.

"Yes, you do."

"And I watched him die. I never wanted to cry in front of you, Cas."

"You saw me when I was crushed by grief for Dean."

"It's different." she said.

"I know. We all tell ourselves the same thing. 'He's in pain, I'm wasting my life in self-pity. You can't have compassion for yourself, only for me. The great thing about love is, I can have compassion for you and not myself. So let me hold you. Let me take care of you. You did the same for me."

  



	50. Chapter 50

Sarah was saying very little. Dean tried not to let that bug him. It felt like manipulation, pushing him to speak, but he didn't think it was. She was aware of the battlefield his brain was and how things weighed on him and how afraid he was of the things he could say that might, once spoken, be true.

Sarah could manipulate with the best of them. In fact, he had often been glad of her ability to coax or con Sam into talking. She could also be very patient, understanding that to admit there was anything to talk about was hard for him.

"Did you know Jack's been cleaning my car?" he said.

"Yes." she said, "He latched onto it as something he could do for you and Sam and Cas thought it was a good idea. I hope he's done a good job."

"Good enough that I'll let him go on doing it." said Dean.

There was silence again. He found his eyes repeatedly drawn to the mud on the floor, an insult to her clean house, an affront to the sanctity of her peaceful parlour.

"I should clean that floor now." he said.

"No." she said, "You've been cleaning up the whole world's messes for years. Leave this one for me."

"I can't. This one is my mess. There's such a thing as responsibility."

"Yes, there is and you've been shouldering too much of it for too long. Not everything is your fault."

He stood and went over to the marks on the floor. "This is!" he said.

"That doesn't matter."

"It matters to me." he said. He looked at her. "Why does it matter so much to you that I don't clean it?"

"Because I want you to forgive yourself for something." she said.

"I've been giving myself a free pass for years."

"And back to the lies." she said.

"I should go, before we argue." he said, "I never want to argue with you."

"Then try agreeing with me."

"If I say I can't do this now ... "

"I'll never try to hold you here against your will."

"My choice?"

"Always." she said.

"But I'm here by choice and I don't even know why." he said.

"You don't?" she said.

"Do you?"

"All I know is that you said things you didn't mean to people you love and you came here because you thought I could help."

"And then I get nowhere and obsess over a patch of mud." he said. He sat down. "Avoidance?" he said.

"Very possible." she said.

"Do you ever feel like beating me across the back of the head until I stop that?"

She chuckled. "Hasn't the world done enough of that? All I want to do is take away some of that pain, give you a safe place to rest and think and heal."

He sat down again. "You know, I'd understand if you gave up on me."

"I know you would." she said, "Because you think that's what everyone does."

"Eventually, yes."

"Even though there are currently one angel, two hunters, one crazy bee lady and a nephilim who won't give up no matter how much you want them to."

He leant forward and whispered, "Except, I don't want them to."

"No, you don't."

"I just want them to think I want them to."

"You also want to be able to think that yourself."

"Because I am six kinds of denial wrapped in a big bag of doubt."

"But who are you really?" she said.

"I used to think I was a hunter, a pure killer. I used to think I was a warrior, sometimes a hero, always something. But a hunter who doesn't hunt ... a hero who runs away, a traitor to my world and another ... "

"Who are you?" she said again.

"I don't know. I'm this confused, broken, corrupted soul."

"Is that all the identity you have?"

"Mary Winchester's kid, who watched her die. Sam's brother, who watched him die. Castiel's friend ... bet you can guess the next part."

"The things Lucifer did to Sam ... " she said.

"Yeah."

"When he talked about Lucifer ... or avoided talking about him, I could see how haunted he still was. The memories were so clear and so painful for him and there was the fear that Lucifer would come back and that he would be helpless to defend himself."

Dean felt fury building in him. Damn archangels! Damn angels! But above all, he hated Lucifer, because hurting him did nothing. He barely felt it or he should barely feel it, but Lucifer had hurt Sam, terrorised and tormented him. Lucifer would never have let Sam go.

"You killed Lucifer. In a way you never wanted to have to do it and at immeasurable cost to yourself, you set Sam free. You saved Jack. And you say you're not a hero."

"I'm not."

"I think you're a hero to Sam."

"I always have been. I don't know how, when no-one has had a clearer view of all my dumb mistakes."

"You're right. Nobody knows you better. Maybe that means he's right."

"Maybe he is. Sam is wiser than I am. I bet he even tried to fix things after what I said. I bet he tried talking to Cas. But it wouldn't work. Cas will nod and smile and accept everything you say, because he wants to please you and be polite. Then he goes away and acts according to the cruel, spiteful, nasty stuff he just accepted you didn't mean, because that's what lodges in his dumb angel head."

She sighed and he realised he had called Cas dumb again.

"That isn't what I meant to say." he said, "It just frustrates me when he can listen to hours of kind words and the only part he remembers is when you got angry and called him dumbass. And he'd agreed to talk to Jules today, so today had to be the day I filled his head with self-doubt."

"The self-doubt is never not there." she said.

"Which is a very good reason to give him encouragement. Why do I never do that? Even before Michael, I don't think I ever encouraged him or tried very hard to help him."

"Well, that's not the story he tells." said Sarah, "Luckily, Jules is more than capable of arguing with his very poor self-image. If he does try to talk to her, she may be able to help him."

"I hope so. He needs someone who's not afraid to tell him how great he is."

"And you are afraid to do that?"

"I'm afraid to be honest with anyone these days."

"Even Sam?"

"Especially Sam. I've spent most of my life trying not to be too naked in front of my brother, not to let him see how far away I am from the person he still believes me to be."

"In a little while, you'll have thirty minutes in the car with him, when you can bluff your way through and keep all the flaws and fears hidden or you can be brave and give him half an hour of pure honesty."

"I don't think that kind of courage comes naturally to me." he said.

"That's quite an admission, from a dishonest man."

"Of course, I could be lying."

"Only time will tell." she said with a smile.  
  
The smell of woodsmoke reminded him of their unusual fieldtrip. "He really took care of me out there, last night." he said, "And I know you're gonna say maybe I should let him do it again."

"Not if you don't want to." she said, "But we know he can do it."

"There's a lot of things he can do: make explosives, gank hellhounds, wrestle Lucifer ... Doesn't mean he should do them or that I should ask him to."

"Even if you happen to be having some trouble with a hellhound?"

"If I asked him for help every time I couldn't handle something alone ... " He stopped talking, aware of what he had just admitted.

"Should I pretend I didn't hear that?"

"Please." he said.

"But, you know, that brother of yours is an exceptional man."

"He is."

"And he loves you very much."

"He does."

"And your eyes are saying, 'Not in a million years.'"

"Sorry." he said.

"Do you have a reason?"

"Sam's exceptional and he loves me and he looks up to me. Asking him to take a good look at my feet of clay seems an unwise risk."

"Dean, he's carried you across wastelands when those feet crumbled. You have no secrets from him; not really."


	51. Chapter 51

Chapter 51.

If he had thought about it, Cas would have switched his phone to silent after Jules fell asleep, bundled in a blanket and wrapped in his arms. He hadn't seen how tired she was, but after she fell asleep, he realised that she had not mentioned sleeping and their bed had not looked slept in. 

He could be slow about such things. Not needing sleep himself, he sometimes forgot how important it was to humans. No wonder she had cried so easily, reminded of her brother's death after a night without sleep.

A night without sleep for him. He had no doubts about that. She had been awake because she had known he was out in the wilds with Dean, Sam and Jack and she had feared he would be hurt, physically or emotionally, by his best friend and his involuntary hostility.

She had not slept long when the ringtone woke her.

"It's Dean, isn't it?" she said.

"Hello, Dean." said Cas, nodding to her.

"Time to wake Sam." said Dean, his voice maddeningly neutral, "I'm ready to come home."

"Yes." said Cas. Either Dean was trying to conceal his hatred or he was feeling bad about the things he had said before. Keeping things uncomplicated was clearly best for both of them.

"Good." said Dean, "Thanks."

"You're welcome." said Cas. He put the phone beside the bed and said, "I have to wake Sam. I'll be back very soon."

She nodded. "I'm okay, Cas."

"Yes." he said. He bent to kiss her.

"Cas ... " she said.

"Hmm?" he said.

"Shirt." she said, gesturing to where he had cast it aside.

"Thanks." he said.

He arrived at Sam's room looking respectable. He knocked on the door out of habit and then remembered that Sam was deeply asleep until he told him otherwise. He went in and woke Sam with a light touch on his shoulder.

Sam's eyes opened. "Hey, Cas." he said.

"Your brother called. He's ready."

"How did he sound?" said Sam.

"I would have to say, guarded." said Cas.

"Great, so we have no idea what state of mind he's in."

"We know he's not yelling hatred at angels." said Cas.

"Always glass half full, aren't you, Cas?" said Sam, "I'll shower and change, then go see what we have."

"Sam, tread carefully. I'm sure time with Sarah is always good for him, but it can also stir up things that might be, for a time, unhelpful."

Sam nodded. "I know, Cas. I'm dreading this."

"You wanted to go."

"Yes. I need to go, but there's a good chance he'll resent me so much for going, he won't speak to me for a week." Sam looked at him closely. "Are you okay?"

"Of course." said Cas.

"Yeah, you tend to say that when you're not."

"Well, today, I am."

"You talked to Jules?"

"Yes, we talked."

"And you didn't break up?"

"We're closer than ever." said Cas, "In fact, I should get back to her."

"Yeah. Thanks for waking me."

Cas nodded and left, hurrying back to his own room. There, he lay on the bed and put his arm around Jules. "I'm back." he said. He smiled. "Probably not information you needed. I waste words."

"I'm glad you're back," she said, "And none of your words are wasted on me. For so long, you said so little."

"Too little?" he said, "I'm wary of saying too much around humans. I don't like the sighs and the eye rolls and when Dean says ... "

"I'm not Dean."

"No, you're not." he said.

"I could listen to you forever."

"I'm constantly aware that the things I say are often wrong, or badly phrased or inconsequential." he said.

"You've spent most of your time on Earth feeling horribly self-conscious, haven't you?"

"Yes, but at least I'm now conscious that I have a self." He looked into her shining eyes and said softly, "And that that self is loved."

"He loves you too, Cas. They all do. Every time he says something that hurts you, he feels terrible."

"I know he does. I know he doesn't mean any of it, especially now."

"No, not one word."

"The trouble is, some of it happens to be true and if you asked him, he'd admit that. He tries not to say it. Sometimes he manages to keep it inside. I know it's true, though. I hear it whether he says it or not."

"And whether he thinks it or not and whether it's true or not." She took his hand and kissed it. "My beautiful angel, more than a decade ago, you broke free of Heaven's control so why are you still flogging yourself with Heaven's scourge?"

"I was supposed to be pure and perfect. By any standard; Heaven's, Earth's, Dean's or yours, I am weak and flawed."

"Not by mine." she said, "To me, you will always be perfect. But my perfect has never been cold marble and sterile sanctity. It's flesh and blood and a willingness to fight for those you love."

"Speaking of those I love, you need sleep, my Shulamite. You didn't sleep at all, last night, did you?"

"How did you know that?"

"I know you." he said, "You're very tired. You were worrying about me."

"Yes. I wished I could be there to take care of you."

"Sam did a good job of that. So did Dean. At some point, he just stopped hating me."

"Dean has never hated you and never will." she said.

"Michael made him hate me." he said, hating Michael.

"Nothing will ever make him hate you." she insisted, "He fought off those feelings."

"Or repressed them. He's a master of repression. All hunters are."

"A few angels, too." she said.

"It's not repression when we do it." he said firmly, "It's self-control."

"Uh-huh. That's what we hunters call it too. But today, we're not concerned with self-control, remember? Feelings are there to be felt."

"Any and all feelings." he said. He wanted her to know that she could cry in front of him again if she needed to.

"Any and all." she said, "Now, get that shirt off again."

"Just the shirt?" he said.

"How brave are you feeling?"


	52. Chapter 52

Dean caught himself staring at the clock in Sarah's kitchen. He knew the route from Ionia to the bunker and he knew how quickly Sam could cover the distance. It seemed important to know how long he would be, though he couldn't say whether he wanted him there quickly or dreaded his arrival. He wondered whether Sarah, who knew his mind better than he did, at times, could have enlightened him. He didn't ask and she didn't offer any observations.

However, there was something he needed to discuss with her before Sam's arrival. "I know you know when my birthday is." he said.

"I do." she said, "It's gradually creeping up on us."

"And you know that I said I don't celebrate and maybe you've respected that."

"I respect everything you say to me, even if I don't agree with it."

"So, forgive me if I'm misjudging you, but I think it's possible you're planning some kind of birthday ambush."

"I think surprise party is a better name for it." she said.

"Whatever." he said, "I'm asking you to cancel any such plans. I know you'll think it's all that avoidance of joy you think I do, which I don't, by the way, but it's not. I just can't face it. There's nothing to celebrate. I can barely face them when we pass in the corridors at the bunker. I certainly don't want to be the centre of attention."

"And by 'them', you mean ... "

"I mean to avoid being any clearer." he said.

She smiled. "I see you haven't lost your sense of humour."

"Them. The off-worlders. The people whose worst enemy and cruellest oppressor I gave a ride into this world, where they had taken refuge. They say they don't hate me, but I would."

"You already do." she said, "What about Thanksgiving and Christmas? They will be here even sooner."

"We never celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas is not an issue." he said, "I'll be hunting then,"

"You'll just stumble across a case and go on a solo hunt?"

"Yeah, as far as they are concerned."

"And you won't tell Sam or your mother why you're avoiding Christmas?"

"And spoil it for them? No."

"I'm not sure Sam will let you hunt alone. He'll want to go too."

"He keeps saying he trusts me." said Dean.

"So it becomes a test of his faith in you. Either he lets you go off alone on an invented hunt ... "

"Not invented. I'll find something to kill."

"Festive!" she said, "Fine, either he lets you go off looking for something to kill so you don't have to be around people ... around your family ... or he's admitting he doesn't trust you, for which you'll make his life Hell."

"I hate it too, but what's the alternative?"

"Tell him the truth?"

"Yeah. No. Forget Christmas. The birthday thing ... "

"No ambush, I promise, but there is a condition. Next time, we have a big celebration."

"Yeah, sure, fine."

"You're agreeing to that because you don't think you'll live that long. You are so like your brother."

"Why, what did Sam agree to?"

"We're not talking about Sam right now."

"You brought him up."

"I think it's more true to say you did and you did a fine job."

"Yeah, not too shabby, huh? Truth is, he was always a good kid. I didn't need to do a lot."

"Just be Mom and Dad and teach him right and wrong in between battles with evil. You did a great job, Dean and you should be proud of the fact. He models himself on you. He believes in you. He lives for you. And really, the same can be said of Castiel."

Dean swallowed hard. The things she was saying were true, in a way, but he felt she was giving him way too much credit. He had made the angel doubt, but he wasn't the reason why the angel did the things he did or loved humanity or believed in free will. And Sam? Sam had always been the best of the Winchesters. San had been born good. Even demon blood could never fully corrupt him. Dean himself, of course, had been corrupted so much more easily. A little pain had been enough.

"Have you thought about what you're going to say when he gets here?" said Sarah.

"I've been thinking of nothing else." he said, "I know what you think I should say and I know what would be easiest to say."

"What do you think you should say?" she said.

"That depends on whether I want to reassure him or give him a responsibility he doesn't need."

"Which would he want you to do?"

"Sammy doesn't always know what's best for him."

"I know someone else like that." she said.

They both heard the car arrive and stop and went to look out the front window. "Why isn't he getting out?" said Dean.

"I think he's waiting for you to be ready to go out there." she said.

"Maybe." he said.

"Are you ready?"

"I think that depends on what I'm going to say."

"Do you want to talk about it?" she said.

"I don't think I can. Whatever I decide, I think I'll decide as the words leave my mouth. This is hard, Sarah. I never make good decisions where Sammy is concerned."

"I disagree."

"Always." he said with a smile, "Look, I'm sorry. Coming here today was probably pointless. I don't feel it resolved anything. I shouldn't have bothered you."

"It didn't help you at all?" she said.

"It gave me a moment to breathe. That's all." he said.

"Then that's enough. You needed that time."

"It seems a weak reason to trouble you, turning up without warning and laying all this on you."

"My dear, under any circumstances, time spent with you is precious to me. Before I met dear Castiel, I led an empty, lonely life here. Now, thanks to him, I have this large, loving family."

"Dysfunctional, though." he said.

"No more than any other and there is so much love in this one. I cherish every moment I get to spend with any of you. Come here scared or snarling or broken, just never stop coming to see me. You are never unwelcome here."

He hugged her. "I spent so long without a mom and now I have two."

"Yes, you do." she said.

"If I ever seem ungrateful ... "

"You never have."

He released her and looked out of the window. "I think, maybe I should let him drive."

"I think that's a very good idea." she said.

He smiled at how easily she understood both meanings of his words. "I'll be okay." he said, not merely trying to reassure her.

She held his hand for a moment and said, "If you need to come here again, come. You can always come home."


	53. Chapter 53

Sam waited so long for Dean to appear that he was startled when Dean banged on the car roof. Sam opened the door and Dean said, "No! Stay there. You can drive."

"You're sure?" said Sam.

"I'm sure." Dean went to the other side and got into the car.

"Where's Sarah?" said Sam.

"Inside, if you want to talk to her." Dean's expression was hard to read.

"No, I don't need to. Did coming here help?"

Dean stared at him as if he were speaking in tongues.

"I mean, do you feel any better?"

"How's Cas?" said Dean, "I'm assuming you talked to him after you left me here."

"Of course I did. I had to."

"Yes, you had to." said Dean, "So how is he?"

"He says he's okay."

"And you believe that?" said Dean, sounding disappointed in Sam.

"No, I don't, but what can I do? Interrogate him?"

"The stuff I said ... I didn't mean any of it."

"I know. More to the point, he knows. He said that. And he's not saying a lot."

"Which in itself says a lot."

"Not really, Dean. I mean, you and he, you've always had your issues."

"What issues?" said Dean.

"He's afraid of asking too much. You're afraid of showing too much. It doesn't make it incredibly easy to talk to either of you about the other or to know what's because of Michael and what's just part of your bizarre relationship."

"It's not bizarre." said Dean.

"Fine. It's perfectly normal."

"Yeah."

"Yeah." said Sam.

"Meaning?"

"He's not okay, not close to it, but he knows you never intended to hurt him."

"What about him and Jules?"

"Closer than ever, he says."

"Do you believe that?" said Dean.

"I honestly don't know. They're together, in their room."

"I had to damage his confidence just before he got back to her." said Dean.

"I did my best to build it back up again." said Sam.

"You're a good kid."

"Not a kid." said Sam.

"No, you're not." said Dean, "Sam, I need to ask you something and you can say no and you should say no if it's too much to ask or ... "

"You should know by now, nothing you need is too much to ask." said Sam, "Just say it and it's as good as done."

"No. You need to hear it and decide and I'm not asking unless you promise to say no if it's too much."

"I promise, but it won't be." said Sam. He could see that whatever it was, just finding the courage to ask was almost too much for Dean. He wished he could make him understand that it was okay to ask anything. He owed him everything.

"Remember Ramiel?" said Dean.

"Of course I do." said Sam, "He almost killed Cas."

"He almost killed me. Only reason he didn't is that sweet manoeuvre you pulled. Saved me, killed him. Nice!"

"Just a fight, like any other." said Sam. He felt disconcerted. There could be no good reason for Dean to be referencing the Princes of Hell.

"I keep thinking of all the times you saved my life, every time you pulled my ass out of the fire. You never gave up on me, Sam. Even when I was gonna kill you, you were more worried about me than yourself." A sudden shadow seemed to fall over his face and he suddenly changed his tone to say, "Which is why I can't ask, because I can't trust you to say no if it's more than I should ask of you."

"Dean, will you cut the crap and just ask?"

"You should say no. I'm not ... I can't ... "

"Stop this! This is what you always do." said Sam, "Just say it. I'm not gonna leave you alone until you do."

"You're my little brother!" said Dean.

"Four years at our age is barely a gap at all."

"It's my job to look after you."

"I swear to you, Dean, if you don't say whatever you've been thinking, I will get the Impala resprayed in hot pink."

"You're bluffing."

"Are you sure? Just say it, Dean."

Dean looked at him, then stared out the front. Without turning again to look at Sam, he said, "I can't trust myself right now. Either Michael still has a hold on me or the corruption he caused is beyond my power to break free."

"You're not corrupted. You're just hurt.

"I'm scared, all the time, except when I'm numb and not really feeling anything and those times scare me more. I want to kill Cas and I hate every time I hurt him. Jack terrifies me and I'm afraid of how easy it is to want to harm him. I'm not myself ... or I am and I am a far worse person than I thought."

"Dean ... "

Dean raised a hand and finally turned to face him. "You wanted to hear it, so hear it. There is no-one in this world to whom I could surrender control, especially after what happened with Michael. I'm more afraid of that than of anything else. Of all the world, I can only trust you and I know now that I need to trust you."

"To do what?" said Sam.

"To do what I can't. To keep this rollercoaster on the tracks. To overrule me when I stop making sense. To control and corral me when I am least willing to be controlled. To stop me hurting anyone."

"Including yourself?"

"Including myself."

"On it." said Sam, without hesitation.

"Just like that? Sam, I'm asking you ... "

"To be the brother to you that you've always been for me. I'm thankful for the opportunity."

"Sam, you need to think about this."

"Did you need to think, before saving me any of those countless times? Did you ever ask yourself if I were worth it or if the fight might be too big or the enemy too strong? Because, I don't remember a single time where you hesitated."

"Sam, I'm asking this now, fairly sane and reasonable. Tomorrow, I may change my mind. I may hate you tomorrow for doing what I ask of you today."

"Yeah, we've met." said Sam.

There were tears in Dean's eyes, but they did not fall. "I never wanted to ask anything like this of you."

"Or of anyone." said Sam, "But you're right to ask me. It's what I'm here for. It's what brothers do. It's what you've always done for me."

"And it puts you between me and Cas, at a time when either of us could turn on the other."

"As I love both of you, I guess that's exactly where I should be." said Sam.

"So, it's a yes?" said Dean.

"It's a Hell, yes!" said Sam.


	54. Chapter 54

Cas was not sure how long he had been lying dazed, but happy on the bed. The nervous system of his borrowed body was lit up like a firework display and his aura was full of dancing colours. He had never felt so little disconnect between his angelic essence and his human vessel and he had never felt so complete, so loved and so at peace.

He felt a thousand weird impulses, to laugh, to dance, to throw away all fear and make love to Jules at once ... but he just lay there, unfocused eyes seeing the ceiling through the swirl of colours.

Jules was looking at him, her brow furrowed. He wondered if her other lovers had been less affected by the power of her touch and skill of her kisses. Maybe they had been able to speak sooner, or more coherently and so she had been unsettled by his random happy noises and the way his eyes chased invisible lights around the room.

"Well, that was better than sex." he said.

"No it wasn't." she said, but she looked relieved as she brushed the hair out of his eyes.

"It was better than sex with April." he said.

"Sex with me is better." she said.

He grinned. "Yes. Everything with you is better."

"How's your mind doing now?" she said.

"It's thinking a lot about how good you look naked, but it does that a lot, these days. Apart from the flashing lights, it seems to be working normally."

"The lights did flicker a bit." she said.

"No. These lights were not electrical. Things spark in my aura when ... " He laughed. "What was I saying?"

"Something about your aura?" she said.

"Whole sections of my vocabulary are shot through with silver ribbons of happiness." he said, "And I have no idea if any of the things I just said are actual words."

"They're words. Whether they were the words you intended ... "

"Best words? Most perfect words? I love you. I love you, Jules."

"I love you too, my joy-drunk, fallen angel." she said. She kissed him and he responded eagerly, his whole body reacting to the kiss as if what had gone before had set every nerve on high alert.

As soon as his lips were free, they started gabbling, pleading, without giving his brain any time to approve the words. "Don't leave me. Don't stop loving me. Without you ... "

"I'm going nowhere." she said, stroking his chest until he became calmer. When he stopped talking, she said softly, "Every time we get closer, you start thinking of how this could end. I'll admit, my death seems like a pretty firm ending to it, but we don't know for sure. We have until then to find a way to stop that ending it. Whatever happens, I promise, it's only death that can stop it."

"Never die!" he said.

"Not if I can avoid it." she said. 

She kissed him again. This time, he silenced the many fears that awoke in his heart and focused on the moment. He breathed in the fragrance of her hair, the faint, subtle aroma of her warm flesh. When her lips left his, he said, "I was afraid seeing me unclothed might be disappointing for you."

She looked along his body from head to foot and smiled lasciviously. "Oh, Castiel, you can forget any concerns about that. There is nothing disappointing here."

"Nothing?" he said.

"My eyes love you as much as my heart does." she said, "I know this has been overwhelming for you. If you need some time alone, I understand."

"No, please. Overwhelm me some more." he said, "I've shown, I think, that I can survive intense moments of intimacy and some powerful stimulation."

She smiled. "That's it. Talk wordy to me."

"Of course, if you want to stop, we can stop. This has to be at a pace that suits you as well as me."

"Your pace is just fine for me." she said, "I like taking things nice and slow."

He found himself watching her lips, remembering how gently they had made the acquaintance of the more sensitive areas of his anatomy and feeling again the tenderest caresses of her tongue. His body subtly reminded him that it was ready to relive the experience any time he was. She noticed too and her smile grew broader.

"Look at the power I have over angels!" she said.

"I apologise for the base instincts of my vessel." he said.

"Your vessel has nothing to apologise for." she said, "But Dean will be back soon and you'll want to check on him, which will be awkward, if you're lying naked here, getting all spun out on sex."

"You're right. I must exercise some self-control." he said, trying desperately not to think about that agile and enthusiastic tongue.

"The night is ours." she said.

"You never ask me to choose between you and the Winchesters."

"I know who you'd choose." she said.

"I'm not sure I do."

"Duty or love, brotherhood or romance? Of course you know. And I accept it. I love a servant of light. I love a warrior who will always protect the world and those who matter most to it. And also, you will follow Dean, your personal messiah, wherever he goes and because I know you wouldn't be you if he hadn't taught you to feel and to love and to think for yourself, I know it's no bad thing that you want to be there for him."

"My messiah?"

"Do you deny it?"

"No, I just don't really think of it in those terms."

"I wish I could do more for Dean. If all I can do is let you go to him without feeling you're letting me down, then I am happy to do it."

"And you never feel I'm letting you down?"

"Never." she said, "You love me too."

"Yes and more, in some ways."

"But not in others. Which is fine."

"Do you think we have time for one more overwhelming before they get back?"

She laughed. "I knew you'd like this way of kissing. You can tell Dean about this, by the way."

"I don't think I can." he said, "Especially not right now."

"Well, that's up to you. Now, Cas, before anything else fries your brain, I want you to lock this in there. I love you and I never want to lose you."

He smiled. "I love you too, beautiful hunter."


	55. Chapter 55

As they got out of the car, Sam tossed the keys to Dean and Dean easily caught them. Their familiar weight was comforting. "Thanks." he said, reluctantly letting go of them inside his pocket.

"Do you want me to make sure no-one bothers you?" said Sam.

Dean almost said no. It felt like cowardice. "I should talk to Mom." he said, "And Cas, if he's talking to me."

"Go to your room. I'll send Mom. Then I'll pick up some lunch for you."

"Okay." he said. "Thanks." he said again.

"No problem. Finally, I can be of some use."

Dean went to his room and dropped his shoes into the corner before flopping onto the bed. A candy bar was lying on the pillow, a kind little gesture from the thrice-accursed abomination ... from Jack.

The journey home had been quiet. He'd barely spoken and Sam, perhaps aware of how complicated it had been for him to admit that he needed him to take over, had not tried to make him.

All he really wanted to do was close his eyes and forget everything and to some degree, he could. With Sam running interference, he could forget there were other people in the bunker and just wallow for a while. Better, he could distract himself, watching movies and wasting time. His conscience reminded him that time was a limited resource, with Michael out there somewhere, but so was alcohol and he intended to use some of that for wallowing too.

His mother knocked on the door and came in. "Sam said you wanted to see me." she said.

"Did he say anything else?" he said.

"No." 

"Have you seen Cas?"

"Cas has been locked in his room all morning."

"So he's avoiding me."

"I don't know." she said, "I don't read minds and his might as well be in Sanskrit."

"Bobby could read Sanskrit." he said, wondering, a moment later, why that seemed at all relevant.

She sat on the bed. "What did you want to talk about, Dean?"

"Sam's pretty amazing, you know, Mom? Last night seemed like a dumb idea to me, taking the loose screw out with two people he can't help but see as enemies. But it worked. Having him around made it easier to be around them."

"That's great." she said.

"So, I ... I did something that seemed like the right thing to do. I put Sam in charge."

"Of what?"

"Of everything. Of me. I'd hoped I could just come back and take up where I left off, just get right back into hunting ... into life ... But that didn't work out. So, I figure, I get Sammy to take command, make sure I don't screw up too badly and help me ... "

She looked sad and he knew she felt helpless, blaming herself for all the suffering they had endured from the day she died. He wished he had words to comfort or absolve her.

"Help you what?" she said, the tremor in her voice almost imperceptible.

"Help me get through this and find a way to make sense of it all. I'm needed in the fight against Michael, but for all I know, right now, I'm working for him."

"No, Dean, you're not."

"I know you believe that, but I also know you can't be sure. It doesn't matter what any of us believe. I put everyone in this bunker at risk and I need to know there is someone ready and able to protect them, even if the danger comes from me."

"If you're expecting Sam to kill you ... "

Dean smiled. "No. I'm almost sure he can't. Maybe that's why it has to be him. Suicide is not my thing. As long as it's Sam making the decisions, he'll find a non-fatal way to deal with the situation."

She seemed reassured by that. Just as he had when he was a little boy, he instinctively tried to comfort her more.

"Sam and I, we know what we're doing with this, with everything. We're a great team. The only reason I hesitated so long was that I didn't want this to be another thing Sam had to deal with, because he's got enough on his plate."

"I think you made the right decision." she said.

"I never lost my shirt, betting on Sam. He defeated the actual Devil, more than once. He can help me with my demons."

"I'd love to help too, in any way I can."

In his head, a sweet speech wrote itself, explaining how it was not her job and she should stay out of it, that she had no obligation to get into the stuff that hurt, when her life had held enough of pain. He thought of what Sam would say and went off-script, improvising from the heart to say, "Thanks, Mom. I'd like that."

It seemed he had said the right thing. Her eyes smiled at him. He fought back the old fears that were telling him not to let anyone know how bad things were. 

He remembered finishing a successful hunt with his father when he was sixteen. Arriving at some drab motel in the middle of the night, his legs had almost given way as he got out of the car. His father had said, "Dean, you okay?" and he was a hunter and hunters didn't get freaked out by the fact they'd had to hack their way through monsters that looked too much like people. Sam had been with them. He could be an asset to his family or a liability, so he had grinned and said, "Yeah, I'm fine. I think I got some blood on my boot."

He had never forgotten the relief on his father's face. John had been happy and proud that his son was not traumatised and to Dean, it had felt like a victory over his weakness, proof that he was a Winchester and that he put his family before his own needs, just as his father did. The same thought was trying to take hold now. "Your family do not need to know this." It was why he hid so much and why Sam would spend hours in silence with his infernal pain. Even Jack was catching it, casting a cloak over his usually candid heart, playing the Winchester game that somehow ensured every Winchester lost.

"I'm scared." he said, "I don't know how I'm gonna get through this." Saying it to her felt better than he had expected. He had not noticed before how much of his energy was being wasted on trying to convince her that everything was fine.

Part of him was waiting for the look of disappointment to come into her eyes, but it didn't come. Deep down, he knew it wouldn't have been in his father's eyes either, if he had admitted to how scared he was. John had accepted his bravado as fact for the same time he sometimes decided to believe Sam's, because they both wanted it to be true. If Dean had given up the act, he suspected his father would have dropped his own and they could have talked about the stuff they were both carrying around in silence and shame.

John was not around, but he had this miraculous second chance with Mary. With her, he could be more honest, trusting her to understand, not just as his mother, but as a fellow hunter and one who had also made a lot of bad choices, because they seemed like the only choices she had.


	56. Chapter 56

Offering to go out for food had been Sam's way of showing Dean he still trusted him, that he could be left unsupervised, even though Dean had asked for his supervision. It didn't mean he was himself untroubled by doubt. Talking to their mother should have been safe enough, but either of the celestials could spark off some issue in his absence. 

Dean's faith in him meant a lot. He'd been waiting a long time for such trust, but it did mean that he had another chance to let Dean down, his absolute worst fear. He was determined that was not going to happen. 

His priority was keeping Dean safe. Of lesser importance, but still hugely important was keeping Dean from hurting others, for his sake and theirs. He also wanted to convince Dean that the things that were happening, in his head and in the world, were not his fault.

His decision to let Michael in had not been one he could ponder and deliberate over at leisure. He'd had moments to make a choice and he had done it. Even Bobby, who hated Michael with a passion, did not blame or resent Dean. Sam and Cas loved him for making the hardest choice of his life and saving Jack.

There had to be a way to make him understand that. Dean had spent so much of his life agonising over tough choices and hating every negative consequence of his necessary actions that he had no vocabulary of self-acceptance, only self-blame. Sam hoped that Dean's decision to surrender control to him might also mean that he would listen a little. All Sam needed was for Dean to stop shutting out all the positive stuff people said about him. All Dean needed was to see himself without the filter of his guilt.

The pizzas were stinking out the car, but Dean would have no problem with that. He was fine with food smells. It was dogs he had issues with. Cas had once suggested it was less of an aroma preference and more of a fear of anything that might love him unconditionally. 

That made sense. It was also why, when the dark stuff was building, he would slam doors shut between himself and Sam. Nothing scared him like the idea that someone might think kindly of him.

For now, at least, the door slamming had stopped. He seemed to have admitted to himself at last that he might need some unconditional love. The look in his eyes when he had asked for Sam's help had held both terror and hope. It was true that it was an act of desperation, but that didn't make it any less an act of faith. The words still echoed in his head, "Of all the world, I can only trust you."

When he got to the bunker, he headed straight for Dean's room. He knocked, then went in. Dean was lying on the bed, headphones on, listening to something that had his full attention. When Sam came into his peripheral vision, he sat up and raised an arm to defend himself.

"Sam! Don't creep up on me like that!" he said, taking off the headphones.

"Sorry. I knocked." said Sam, "Did you and Mom have a good talk?"

Dean nodded. "A great talk, actually. She thinks I'm right to put my faith in you. We both spent quite some time on how awesome you are. I told her some of the times you saved my bacon."

"Did you tell her all the times you saved mine?" said Sam.

"I think we touched on that a little." said Dean, which was a firm no. He turned his gaze to the wall and said, "I told her some other stuff."

"Yeah?" said Sam.

"She's our Mom." he said, as if he needed something to excuse speaking to her.

"She is." said Sam, "I've seen the photos."

"So I told her ... I mean, it's not like we need to hide this stuff."

"Of course not." said Sam, wishing Dean could just finish the thought.

"And it was okay." said Dean, "She got it."

"Got ... ?"

Dean stole a glance at him and then looked at his watch. "How things have been ... How things are. She wanted to help too."

"And you said she could?" said Sam, feeling immensely proud of Dean's sudden courage.

"It just felt like I needed her and she needed to do it and I thought, what the hey?"

Sam realised that Dean had heard the question as criticism. "Listen, Dean, that's good. That's great. Of course you were right to let her."

"I'm glad you think so. I'm not a great judge of my own decisions, these days."

"That's what you have me for, right? And now Mom. But I gotta tell you, your recent decisions have been good ones." He put the pizza boxes on the bed with two bottles of beer. "Food!" he said.

"You are my number one brother." said Dean appreciatively.

"Did you get a chance to talk with Cas?" said Sam as Dean opened the boxes.

"Nah. Not available."

"Where is he?"

"Mom says he's been sulking in his room all morning, avoiding me."

"Mom said that?" said Sam.

"Yes." said Dean.

"She used the word sulking?"

"Something like that, anyway." said Dean, "It's for the best. You should be there when I talk to him. I get these weird glitches, where I think of him and Jack and terrible words ... terrible thoughts leap into my head. If he's already sulking, that's not a good idea."

"He didn't seem to be sulking this morning." said Sam.

"He's not always an open book." said Dean, "Or if he is, he's an open book of sudoko."

"That's true, but you are also seeing things a little differently at the moment."

"But Mom isn't." said Dean.

"That's true." said Sam.

"So, after we eat, we'll go grab him out of his lair and talk to him."

"Monsters have lairs." said Sam.

"You and Sarah get obsessed with word choices."

"Words have power." said Sam.

"That's what she always says. Okay. What do angels have?"

"I don't know. Nests?"

"Like vampires?" said Dean.

"Okay, not nests. We could just call it his room." 

"That works."


	57. Chapter 57

As they ate the pizza, Dean didn't say much. He knew Sam wanted him to say more, but for him, just having his brother back after so long with only Michael for company was a lot. He wished he could tell him that, but he was fairly sure that Sam already knew.

"Good pizza." he said, hoping Sam could hear the love and gratitude.

Sam regarded him carefully and then smiled and said, "Yes, it is."

Neither spoke for some time, then Dean said, "I don't know why I went to Sarah's."

"It seemed to help." said Sam.

"Oh, it helped. It always does." said Dean.

"Then isn't that why you go there?"

"I shouldn't need ... "

"According to whom? We all need Sarah. Having her in our lives is the best thing that's happened to us in a long time. Dean, there's a big difference between a lone wolf and an abandoned dog."

"I have a feeling that, if I understood that, I'd be offended."

"Only because you feel like needing anyone is a weakness. Which is weird, because whenever I need you, you sell it as a strength. You've always felt you had to handle things alone, because friends, family, you can lose them all at any moment. Nothing in the world freaks you out like unconditional love and the way it gets past all your defences. You're so determined not to need anyone. But guess what, Dean? You're human. You need people."

"I thought I was an abandoned dog,"

"More like the Littlest Hobo. You love people. people love you ... I mean adore you ... follow you into Hell style devotion. But you don't like to stick around too long or ask too much. Look at Jody. There for you anytime, but you don't talk to her for weeks sometimes."

"Jody's busy." said Dean.

"Yeah and you never want to become a burden."

Dean thought about that. It was true that he considered it unfair to his friends o trouble them too often, but he felt he had good reason for that and maybe it was time to explain it to Sam.

"I can be needy." said Dean, "I have to be careful, because there's a temptation to lean on people too much."

Sam looked unsettled. There was something on his mind that he didn't feel he should say.

"Honesty, Sam. Say it."

"It seems to me that you see yourself as needy because you were raised to need nothing. I mean, I don't wanna say anything bad about Dad ... especially to you, but I can remember you pretending you needed nothing from him when you were thirteen years old."

"Dad had a lot to deal with." said Dean.

"I know he did and I'm not blaming him, but you saw what he was dealing with and you put everything you had into not being something he needed to worry about."

"The last thing he needed was some whiny kid, demanding his attention."

"You never minded me demanding yours."

"You were very young."

"And you were an old man?" said Sam.

Dean chuckled. "Sometimes it felt that way."

"I never remember you asking him for anything but more ammo." said Sam.

"Oh, I asked him, sometimes, but I tried not to ask too much or two often. Sometimes, after you were asleep, I'd hear him crying."

"I heard that too, sometimes, but you were awake a lot more than I was. Some nights, you barely slept at all."

"I had to watch over both of you." said Dean.

"Why you?" said Sam.

"Because there was no-one else and because I could. When he had a bad night, I'd try to make sure breakfast was ready when he woke up. Food helps." He looked at the pizza in his hand and then grinned at Sam, "But you know that." He thought of his trip to the cabin with Cas some time ago. "You know, Cas once said food was the only expression of love I could accept."

"It can seem that way." said Sam, "But that's fine. If food works, I'll feed you."

"Sarah does too." said Dean, thinking of the delicious pies, made with such love and the ever-present homebaked cookies.

"All that matters to any of us is that you know how much you're loved. And you're not needy. You just have needs. We all do and you've never made the rest of us feel bad because we do. You're surrounded by people who would die for you and you act like asking them for a coffee is unreasonable."

"I ask a lot more than coffee. I know what's in my head. I know what happens when it spills out. I'm toxic. I know that. So I do the only good thing I can and I try to limit how much others are exposed to the poison."

"Did Sarah say you were toxic?" said Sam.

"Sarah treats me like a son. She would never say anything bad about me."

"She also doesn't lie." said Sam.

"We all lie, all the time. Her lies are loving ones, that's all."

"You don't believe that." said Sam, not asking, but stating it.

"No, I don't." Dean conceded.

"You know she will never see you as toxic."

"No, but vision can be limited."

Sam smiled. "It really can. You will never see yourself as we do."

"I wish I could be the person you see."

"We can't all be wrong."

"You know, you never asked Dad for anything much either. Is that my fault? Did you feel you couldn't, because I didn't?" The thought had bothered him many times, over the years.

"No," said Sam, "I just never needed to, because I could ask you for anything. I had you to take care of me, but you had no-one."

"Dad was okay."

"Dad was oblivious. He thought you didn't need a thing."

"I told him I didn't." said Dean. If it were anybody's fault, he had to say it was his, not his father's. John could not have acted on something he didn't know was a problem.

Sam's eyes were kind, but not condescending. He was glad he had been honest with him. Sam deserved honesty and it didn't make him think less of his brother. That was a relief.

"I'm glad you have Sarah now." said Sam, "And I'm glad you're not afraid to ask her for help."

"I think, maybe, I'm just more afraid of trying to deal with all this without help." said Dean.

"Asking is a sign of strength and courage." said Sam.

"I don't think I even asked. I just appeared at her door."

"That's all you ever need to do with Sarah." said Sam.

"I never take her for granted or you either. Knowing I can lean on you, Sam ... "

"I've been leaning on you my whole life." said Sam.


	58. Chapter 58

Sam felt a deep sense of responsibility as they went in search of Cas. Dean was doing okay and seemed in control of his feelings, but that didn't mean those feelings had gone away. 

Cas had not been very talkative all day and there seemed to be a lot he was not eager to talk about. If he remained taciturn, Dean might read that as aloof or untrustworthy, when it could just mean that Cas was reverting to the passive silence natural to angels. Few angels were chatty and the present situation did not encourage Cas to speak freely or carelessly.

However, Dean wanted to speak to Cas and had wisely decided to have Sam present to prevent problems and Sam was happy to assist. Silence between the two had never really helped anyone.

Sam knocked on Cas's door and said, "Cas, can we talk to you?"

"Wait!" said Cas, sounding less than welcoming. Sam heard a low conversation between Cas and Jules, their voices recognisable, their words inaudible. There was a sound of movement and he thought he heard Jules say, "It's okay." Then the door opened and Cas stood there, his tie crooked and his hair dishevelled. His eyes skated over Sam and rested on Dean.

"Hey." said Dean, "I ... "

Cas came out and closed the door firmly behind him. 

Dean tried again. "I'm sorry that I screwed things up for you and Jules."

"What makes you think you did?" said Cas.

"Well, I said a dumb thing and you went off believing it." said Dean.

"Jules and I are fine."

"How fine?" said Dean, "Winchester fine, pact fine or Daisy Duke fine?"

"I have no idea what the last one even means."

"Okay, next time we're in the Dean Cave ... But you and Jules still didn't have sex, right?"

"Why are you so obsessed with my sexlife?" said Cas.

"One of us has to be." said Dean.

"Dean, he says it's fine." said Sam warily.

"He says everything's fine." said Dean, a trace of annoyance creeping into his voice, "If you gave him shattered glass instead of ice, he'd say that was fine."

"It would be." said Cas, "It would do me no harm."

"We should try to stick to safe topics." said Sam.

"There shouldn't be any unsafe ones, between friends." said Dean.

Sam started to move closer to them. Tension was rising and he needed to be ready to intervene. Cas was beginning to worry him. There was a slightly dazed look in his eyes. On Dean's that would have looked like a whisky glaze, but there was not enough whisky in the bunker to blur Cas's sharp focus.

"Are you gonna tell us what happened with Jules?" said Dean quietly.

"No." said Cas.

"Any particular reason?"

"No." said Cas.

"I knew it! I killed your confidence and you screwed it up."

"Dean, stop." said Sam.

"Or maybe it went well, but it's private." said Cas, a defensive edge to his voice.

"He has a right to a private life." said Sam, trying to sound calm and reasonable.

Dean looked at him for a moment, then turned back to Cas and said, "Yeah, sorry."

"You don't need to worry." said Cas, "It's all fine."

"You'd say that anyway." said Dean.

"Yes." Cas admitted.

"And that's why I need more information, because I can't rely on your word."

"He doesn't mean that." said Sam.

"Your judgement, then. You're so ... " He looked intently into Cas's eyes and said, "What's going on with you?"

"What do you mean?" said Sam.

"He's acting all suspicious and weird. The eye contact is all wrong."

"It's Cas, Dean. The eye contact is always wrong."

"Always?" said Cas.

"I don't mean it as an insult." said Sam.

"Just an observation?" said Cas.

"You're looking shifty." said Dean.

Sam looked at Cas. He saw nothing suspicious at all. "He just looks confused to me." he said, "A little spacey, maybe."

Dean glared into Cas's eyes. Sam wondered whether he needed to make Dean step away, but then, suddenly and unexpectedly. Dean's whole manner changed. He put his hand on Cas's shoulder and said, "Cas, it's okay. Try to focus."

"What's wrong?" said Sam, aware that Dean was voluntarily making physical contact with an angel.

"I don't know." said Dean, "But something has him freaked." All the irritation seemed to have drained away and suspicion had given way to concern. "Cas, whatever happened with Jules, it'll be fine."

"Maybe we need to go to the Dean Cave now and talk in a more private setting." said Sam.

"Yeah, we should do that." said Dean, steering Cas in that direction with a hand on his shoulder. 

Cas noticeably relaxed a little when they were away from the room he shared with Jules. In the Dean Cave, Sam said, "Before we start, are both of you in the right state of mind?"

"We're talking, not working high ceremonial magic." said Dean.

"That's a no from Dean." said Cas.

Sam looked at Dean, half expecting him to take a swing at the angel. Instead, he nodded. "Give me two seconds." he said. He left the room. 

They both heard something hit the wall outside, then there was silence. Eventually, he returned. "Sorry." he said.

"Now," said Cas, putting his hand on Dean's shoulder without Dean trying to shrug it off, "Your turn to focus. You need to hear this."

"What?" said Dean.

"What you said last night helped me."

"It couldn't." said Dean.

"Not the part about how I screw everything up. The part where you said I shouldn't be afraid of being overwhelmed. I always am and I always try to avoid it, which is a large part of why I always screw things up."

"You don't." said Dean, "Most of what comes out of my mouth is 100% garbage."

"A lot of what goes in there, too." said Sam, trying to lighten the mood.

"Not everything with a flavour is bad for you." said Dean.

"The point is," said Cas, "When I saw Jules again, I made myself ignore the fear. I stopped needing to be in control of myself. I let ... I allowed feelings to become more powerful and intense. I let myself feel them and I was overwhelmed."

"And ... ?" said Dean.

"And what?" said Cas.

"What happened?"

"Nothing. You would have called it nothing."

"But to you, something?" said Dean.

"To me, everything. And I was afraid and I was overwhelmed and I didn't understand all of what I was feeling, but it brought me joy greater than the fear."

"And did you ... did she ... did Jules uh ... kiss you ... intimately?"

Cas looked down and gave the smallest of nods.

"Alright!" said Dean.

"Dean," said Sam, "This is clearly a big deal for him. A little sensitivity ... "

Dean put his arm around Cas's shoulder and said, "Castiel, angel of the Lord ... "

"Just angel, now." said Cas.

"Whatever. You didn't screw things up. You did great! I'm proud of you!"

Cas looked embarrassed, but not unhappy and Sam wanted to hug them both, because that was the first time since Dean's return that he had shown any inclination to embrace his best friend.

Dean seemed to realise it too and he let Cas go and backed off. "Okay," he said, "Next question. Was it good?"

"It was good." said Cas, looking uneasily at Sam.

"Just good?" said Dean.

"Very good." said Cas.

"Never try to write a Penthouse Forum letter." said Dean.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked him carefully.

"Pretty jealous. I can't remember the last time ... "

"Dean, you know what I'm asking."

"Do I want to kill Flyboy here? No. I'm okay."

Sam looked at Cas, who still seemed uncomfortable. "You, Cas?"

"He's fine." said Dean, "He's had a good morning. Now, while I have you both here, I need to know what strategy you have in place for if Michael comes back here."

"Back to the bunker?" said Sam.

"Back to this vessel."

"He can't without consent." said Cas.

"I think it's pretty clear saying no won't stop him, if he even bothers to ask." said Dean, "If the worst happened, is there some way in which you could destroy an occupied vessel? I mean, you were working on that, right? While I was away?"

"Two things:" said Cas, "First, that would not be possible and second, I think we should all talk about how often your first attempt at a solution to any problem comes down to your death."

"Im just being realistic."

"You're being suicidal." said Cas.

"Suicide is the last thing I'm gonna do. I don't believe in it. I plan to go down swinging, not giving up, with optional goodbye full of badly-written self-pity."

"Every time you're looking for a way to fix things, your first thought is, 'How can I usefully throw away my life?'" said Cas.

"I think maybe you're still a little out of it." said Dean.

"Let's talk about this later." said Sam.

"Tell me I'm wrong." said Cas.

"You're not." said Sam, "But Dean is a little ... "

"A little what?" said Dean.

"I just think, maybe this is a subject with a lot of potential for stirring up emotional and unhelpful reactions." said Sam.

He could see Dean was about to argue, but then Dean seemed to remember why he had asked Sam to be present. "You're right." he said, "Let's educate Cas abou Daisy Duke."


	59. Chapter 59

Cas tried hard to be as interested in The Dukes of Hazzard as Dean was, but it wasn't easy. For one thing, he could not understand the appeal of the car chases, which were repetitive and, for one who had seen Dean drive, unimpressive. He was unsure about voicing that complaint, but when he said, "With Dean driving, they would have lost the sheriff in half the time." Dean had rewarded him with a grin.

Repeatedly, Dean tried to engage his interest in the lubricious charms of Daisy Duke and he tried to play along. All humans were beautiful, he knew and all lithe, limber ladies sent certain signals to his vessel that he could not entirely ignore, but pretty though she was and however dazzling her smile or short her shorts, she was not Jules. 

Jules herself thought she was average in appearance and below average in in attracting men. She laughed when he called her beautiful and blushed when he called her hot, but Daisy Duke's slight frame and by-the-numbers charms held none of the appeal of her strong, scarred arms or feeling her warm body pressed against his in the middle of the night.

Nevertheless, he nodded and smiled and agreed with everything Dean said about his childhood crush. The smiles were not for the Boar's Nest waitress, but for Dean, who looked and talked like himself and who didn't flinch when Cas moved a hand near him and didn't search his eyes for sly looks or his words for hidden traps.

At any time, that Dean might vanish and be replaced by the Michael-damaged paranoid, but there was nothing of Michael in him now and Cas was determined to enjoy the respite, however long or short its duration.

He saw the same thought in Sam's eyes, the same fear that it would end, same hope that it was a sign that Dean was winning the fight. He also noticed how often Sam's eyes turned to him and each time, he would smile his reassurance that there was no need to worry about him.

There was something heartening about the fact that the look of compassion and concern never disappeared. Sam knew he wanted him to avoid unnecessary worry over him, but Sam didn't care about that. However difficult things might become with Dean, however much time and energy he might have to devote to his actual, biological brother, he would never consider abandoning the adopted celestial to his fate.

The furrowed brow, the weary eyes, would have conveyed nothing to Castiel in the early days of their acquaintance. He would have taken Sam's pretence of unlimited strength at face value. Now, he was not fooled. He was well aware of how thinly Sam had been spreading his strength in recent years and how little of it he had to spare. Still, he would never let either of them down. He would sacrifice life, health or happiness to take care of them both.

He had been warned by his fellow angels not to get too close to humanity. It was dangerous. Humans evoked and provoked the worst emotions and stirred confusion and doubt with their untempered philosophies and foolish questions. Interaction with them could be exciting or infuriating, but it could never be called safe.

Not one of those angels had ever walked into the bunker's kitchen to find coffee brewing and a note from Sam or Dean, telling him there were doughnuts saved for him. They had never found Dean changing their car's oil or found a pile of books on their bed because Sam thought they might find them interesting. They had never watched 80s TV with human friends and seen their sincere desire for him to love it as they did.

Not that he did or could. It had not been the comfort of his childhood. The shapely legs of that young woman had not become engraved on his mind as he struggled with puberty in a succession of motel rooms with neither privacy nor comradeship. 

For Dean, it was more than a TV show. Cas loved it only because it mattered to Sam and Dean. For now, it kept Dean's mind distracted from his recent suffering and he had to love anything that could do that.

Sam only half watched it, but it comforted him too. The parents of nuclear families, safe in their shelters, might sniff at the poor babysitter that was the television, but for some kids, TV was all there was. When John had not been around and Dean had been trying to be both parents to his little brother, his one escape had been whatever TV he could get in whatever motel room was their temporary home.

It was during the car chases that he saw the boys they had been. He was a little amused to see how they were captivated by the excitement that fell so short of their daily lives staring at the General Lee in a way that would have made Dean's Baby jealous, reliving the few innocent joys of a childhood that had been brief and mostly empty. At such times, he found his joy in theirs, happy to see them happy, however fleeting the moment might be.

Between one episode and the next, Dean pressed pause and turned to look at him. He tried not to look nervous, knowing that Dean might have begun to suspect or resent him again, but also aware that, if he hadn't, one uneasy look could start him feeling that way. To his great relief, there was nothing hostile in his friend's eyes.

"So, Cas," he said, "What's the plan for tonight?"

"Tonight?" said Cas.

"With Jules. I mean, she's not out hunting tonight, is she?"

"So far, she has no plans to hunt." said Cas. He was hoping for something amorous to happen, but to plan for it seemed presumptuous.

"And you have no plans of any kind?" said Dean.

"No specific plans." said Cas.

Sam carefully intervened again. "He has to move at his own pace." he said.

"Of course." said Dean. His eyes were apologetic. "Flowers always help, though."

"That's probably a good idea." said Cas. Dean was battling two very different urges, the one that made him want to interfere, because he believed Cas needed his guidance, because he doubted his ability to move forward in the relationship without it and the one that told him to get angry and say cruel things. He was currently resisting both and forcing himself to speak with patience and respect. Cas wished he could express his gratitude without showing that he had seen the battle.


	60. Chapter 60

Jules wanted to plan a romantic evening, something she had thought she excelled at in her youth, but it was so much harder now that it mattered so much. It was harder because of Cas and it was harder because her mind was once again, after years of peaceful repression, replaying the horrors of her brother's death.

She and Steve had been close. He could be an annoying little brat at times, but he could also be the sweetest, most thoughtful little brother she could imagine. Steve had been stubborn and outspoken. He had been pushed around by a cop who only cared that he matched the very vague description of the man they wanted and he had been less than submissive and respectful. She had respected that, even as she had wished he had softened his attitude enough to spare himself the bruises.

He was a good kid. There had never been any legitimate reason for the cops to take an interest. He had worked hard, studied diligently and made friends easily. Their parents had been proud of both and relieved that neither seemed likely to fall into any dangerous habits or harmful company. 

He was tall, though, his skin dark and he had a tendency to argue and to argue well. In a white kid, it would have been called intelligent and self-confident. For those elsewhere on the colour chart, the word uppity was reserved. Sometimes, cops gave him a hard time. She knew enough law to scare them into backing off. The mere fact that she was quoting the law was usually enough. They were not brave except when shoving a teenager.

If he had fallen to his knees in front of the demon, he might still be alive. He had refused, in front of a crowd and the demon had decided an example was needed.

She dragged her thoughts back to the room she was in, to the bed where she and Cas had finally been able to play naked. If she could stop obsessing about the past, there was a good chance that they could go further that night and that was what she had wanted since Cas's birthday party in September, when she had overcome her fears of involvement with an angel and had kissed him for the first time.

She remember the dazed look on his face, the way he had stood, watching her go, giving no indication of whether she had just offended his celestial dignity or captured his heart. She had given him time to think it through. Everything in their relationship needed time and patience.

From time to time, he disappeared. She knew it was sometimes to the farm, but often he would just wander away, pondering doubts she could never fully comprehend. Then he would come back, sorry for having given her any cause for disquiet, wondering if the very fact that he did that was a reason not to be involved with her. Every relationship in his life was fringed with guilt, except the one with Jack.

She had no illusions that sex would solve more problems than it created. Kissing made the lights dim, foreplay seemed to scramble his thoughts. Sex would be too much for his easily bewildered mind and that nervous system he was still learning to handle. He could be shot through the heart and feel nothing, but her finger, stroking his ear could set off fireworks in his head.

She thought sex would be good. The way he kissed, the ease with which his hands excited her flesh, the knowledge he had of female anatomy and the associated sensations, having worn a female form himself, all suggested that if they ever got the chance to get serious, it would be incredible. However, that pretty much guaranteed that he would be overcome with the sensations and those would lead to the questions, "Is this allowed for me?" and, "Can an angel survive this intensity?"

She was probably as nervous about it as he was, which didn't help, but she knew that she loved him. She knew she would never stop loving him. She, who had once wished every angel could be sent straight to Hell, acknowledged that he was now the most important being in her life, the centre and purpose of her life. If he could never have sex with her, she would settle into celibacy. She'd had years of practice, anyway.

But maybe he could have sex and maybe they were about to, if she could move on from obsessing over her brother's death. Food had not really been a part of their unusual courtship, but a glass of wine might be appropriate. He drank little and she wasn't sure he liked wine, but whisky might have seemed a little too much like she needed a boost to her courage.

It was exhausting, being with someone whose mind was never still and whose perception of the world rarely made human sense. She had to ask herself what he would read into everything and often he still surprised her with some interpretation she had never considered. A relationship with him was as demanding as he was undemanding, both hard work and the easiest, most natural thing in the world. It required focus and she could not afford to be distracted by grief and guilt from a world she had left behind.

Steve had left nothing behind. The bracelet he had given her for her birthday years before he died had fallen between gaps in the rubble of a city torn apart by angels blasting demons. The car he had loved had been stolen by desperate people, fleeing the devastation. She had not been angry. She had seen them go. They had kids. Her parents, law-abiding though they were, would have done the same. She did not even have a picture of him and she was beginning to find his face less vivid in her mind.

She had failed to save him. She had watched him die. She had prayed for his end to be faster, not for his life to be saved. She had still believed angels were good, then, but somehow her faith had not been great enough to ask for that.

The apocalypse would end up taking both of her parents too, but she knew they had died first at the moment they heard her say, "Mom, Dad, Steve ... " and had read the words she could not say in her eyes.

"How?" her father had said.

"Demon." she said.

"Did he suffer?" her mother asked and for the first time in her adult life, she had lied to her parents.

Did he suffer? Every terrible moment and until her own life ended, she would suffer every second of that death over and over. 

She got up and went over to the mirror on the wall. She looked bad. She had no intention of confronting Castiel with the deep wounds that nobody could hope to heal. He had enough to deal with. He needed her to be strong. She needed to let the old world go and commit to the one in which she had love and hope and a family.

She wished, though, that she had one picture of Steve or one fragment of his life to remember him by.


	61. Chapter 61

Castiel did not consider himself a demanding lover. He knew he had the potential to be, had he ever made his multitudinous needs known, but he was careful not to and he prided himself on being fairly low-maintenance.

Jules appreciated, he knew, the fact that he was not a helicopter boyfriend, needing to know at any moment where she was, what she was doing, with whom she was doing it. He trusted her to tell him anything he needed to know and he needed to know very little. Having gained her love, he felt no desire to seize control of her life or even to get a vote on it.

He loved her habit of sending inconsequential texts and pictures during most days. Some were sweetly flirtatious, some Bible texts, sending a message most people couldn't be bothered to look up, but they both knew the Bible well enough not to need to. Sometimes she simply sent, "Missing you." or "Love you." All of those meant the same thing to him, that he had crossed her mind and she had reached out to send a signal that she loved him. Even a quick snap of her lunch told him that she knew he cared whether she ate.

This was the first day in a long time with no text or call from her. He knew she was trying to give him space to deal with the Dean situation, but he also knew that she, aware of how cut-off from Dean he felt, would usually have sent some brief, supportive message. He had no reason to think it, because they had parted on more than affectionate terms and being truly naked together for the first time had not led to any of the disappointments he had feared she might feel, but something in his gut told him that something was wrong.

He checked his phone, wondering if some technical fault had worried him for nothing.

Dean noticed immediately. "What's wrong, Cas?" he said.

"Jules." said Cas.

"What does she say?" said Dean.

"Nothing. Nothing for hours now."

"Did you guys argue?" said Sam.

"No. We had a wonderful morning."

Dean nodded. "It's okay, Cas. Go to her."

"It's probably nothing." said Cas, "You know me and subtext."

"Yeah, you're right. You're probably worrying about nothing. Go anyway, because she'd rather have you ask than go on worrying."

"But I'm supposed to be here, with you." said Cas.

Dean's smile was completely Dean and that alone made his heart soar. "You're a good friend, Cas." he said, "Having you around me today was just like old times. Seriously, it felt good. And I have to thank you for that, for being my friend when I've been at my least likeable, but you don't owe me anything and where you need to be right now is with Jules, so go."

"Thanks." said Cas. He hurried to their room and knocked on the door.

Paul was passing. "She's not there. She was working a case."

"What case?" said Cas. She had not been working one earlier.

"I don't know. She was checking public records on her phone. Last I saw, she was heading to the garage."

"She's gone out?" said Cas.

"Not that I know of. She likes to sit in the Jeep to think. Don't look so worried. She's fine. She's always fine."

The words, "She's always fine." chilled his heart. Paul would not have said it unless he thought there might be reason to worry and everyone saw Jules as calm, strong and undamaged by what she had been through because she, like the Winchesters ... like every damn hunter in both worlds ... buried her pain and battled on. When Paul said, "She's fine." he spoke as a hunter. It meant, "She will control her feelings and go on fighting."

He almost ran to the garage. She was in the driver's seat of the Jeep. Tears were streaming down her face. He went to the door. "Can we talk?" he said.

She wiped away some tears and opened the window. "Go back to Dean. I need to get myself together first."

"Not on my account." he said. He went to the other door and got in beside her. "What's happened?" he said.

She sighed. "I did a dumb thing."

He smiled. "Well, it was your turn."

A faint smile briefly tilted the corners of her mouth.

"Tell me." he said.

"I can't stop thinking about Stephen ... how he died, how little trace of him was left in my world. Nineteen years of life and not a thing left behind to remind anyone he was there." She stopped talking, sobs choking off her words.

Cas stroked her cheek, hot under the coolness of her tears, and waited for her to be able to speak again. Hunters, like deer, required patience and were likely to bolt if they felt close to being cornered.

"I don't have a picture of him. Not one lousy, torn photo. So I thought, my dad exists here. If I looked for Stephen in this world, I might find a picture I can keep in memory of my Stephen."

"You know that neither your father nor your brother are the same people in this world?" said Cas gently.

"I know. DNA identical, but more like twins than the same people. I just wanted to see his face ... or a face that looked like his."

"I understand." said Cas. Jules had helped him to assemble the pictures on his phone and he cherished them all. Even Claire occasionally sent him one, usually showing off some new weapon and he would barely see the knife or gun, because his eyes looked always at her eyes or her smile and he felt like a proud father, though he was careful never to sound like one. "Did you find a picture?" he said.

"No." she said and the single syllable bore a weight and a sorrow it was never intended to carry.

"What happened?" he said.

"In this world, he ... " She slumped forward, overcome by sobs again. 

He put his hand on her shoulder, wishing he knew what to do or say to ease her pain.

Slowly and painfully, she choked back the sobs, straightened up and then said, in a voice most unlike her usual calm tones, "He was never born here. He never existed. Here, my parents ... I know they aren't my parents ... but here, they had one child, Juliette, who died young."

"I'm sorry," said Cas, "For them and for you."

"My dad's alone here." she said, "He has no-one."

"You should have no contact with him." said Cas, aware of how irrational humans could be with even a simulation of family involved.

"I know." she said.

"But if you like, I could check on him, discreetly make sure that he has what he needs."

She grabbed his hand. "My angel!" she said, "Thanks! That would be so good of you."

He knew it wouldn't fix anything, how could it? The non-existence of her brother in this world must feel like losing him again and for the other off-worlders who had counterparts in this reality, there was some comfort in the idea that their other selves and other families had been spared the pain they had experienced. For her family, this world had been more cruel than her own. It held no comfort at all, but the weak, conditional, uncertain love of a low grade angel.

"I wish ... " he said. He looked into her eyes, flooded with tears, bright with the pain she had hidden from everyone. "I wish I could help. I wish I could take this pain away."

"You could." she said, "You could take all memory of him away."

"I can't do that." he said, "I won't."

"Good." she said, "Because the pain is better than losing the memory of my family as it was."

"Even if you begged me, I would never do it. I wiped Dean from the memories of Lisa and Ben and it was the most terrible thing I ever did. Well, that and Jimmy and Claire and Balthazar and Charlie."

"Guilt loop!" said Jules.

He smiled. "Even now, you're protecting an invulnerable celestial being."

"You were never invulnerable," she said, "And there's no point in pretending you are to me."

"Maybe I'll stop pretending, if you will." he said.

"My act isn't going too well right now, is it?" she said, "And I think I've ruined our big romantic plans. I'm sorry, Cas. I'm a terrible girlfriend."

"Tonight, we may possibly have had sex." he said, "Or, more likely, one or both of us would have lost our nerve and wasted our chance."

"Always the optimist!" she said.

"I know my failings very well. When I say one or both of us, I mostly mean me."

"One or both was right." she said.

"Instead, we have this terrible situation."

"I know. I'm sorry." said Jules.

"Where you let me see the scars on your soul."

"I never intended to." she said.

"No, none of us ever do. We keep our silence and hide the pain and we think that means it doesn't exist. And it never works. We even tell each other it doesn't work. We beg each other not to be so stupid, because we're all so wise where other people's sorrow is concerned."

"I decided, when I left that world, I would leave its sorrows. My brother is dead. Even the world he knew is barely alive. I wanted to make a fresh start, but letting go is hard."

"Letting go is impossible, because love doesn't stop." he said.

"I need to bury the grief again. It worked for years, it can work again."

"Sarah would say you need to process it."

"That works better for peas than pain."

"Sarah knows the human heart better than I ever will." he said, "She even gets the angel heart."

"Well, my angel's heart seems pretty human to me." she said.

Some other thread of his thoughts reminded him of something. It was a doubtful suggestion, because she and all those from her world had good reason to fear angelic interference, but she had allowed him to heal her and to put her to sleep, so he decided to suggest it.

"I may be able to help with the picture thing." he said.

"There are no pictures of him in this world and we can't get back to the other one yet."

"I can draw anything I've seen. It's a big thing to ask, a matter of trust and I will not be offended if you tell me to keep my celestial snooping away from you."

"You won't be offended if I use those exact words?"

"Compared to what Dean's been saying recently, that's nothing."

"I would never use those words." she said.

"Just give me consent to glance at your surface thoughts and think of him. I can draw him for you."

"In my thoughts, my memories of him are fading." she said, sounding almost ashamed.

"That won't make a difference. It's hard to explain, but if you can give me any image, however imperfect, I can mine the raw data from which that image sprang."

"Why didn't you tell me you can draw?" she said.

"I can't. Not in the human sense. It's purely functional. Every angel can perfectly reproduce anything they have seen. There is no artistry or imagination involved. Ironically, we contain none of the divine spark of creativity that comes with a human soul."

"Darling, I've experienced your artistry in bed, you are selling yourself short." she said.


	62. Chapter 62

Sam and Dean remained in the Dean Cave, but didn't watch any more of the DVDs. Dean turned off the small screen TV that had replaced the love of his life which still leant against the wall, awaiting a miracle. "So, how am I doing?" he said.

"Better than I expected." said Sam, "Pretty damn well, to be honest."

Dean was surprised. It had felt like something of a struggle and he was acutely aware of how often Cas had glanced his way in the dark, trying to scope out his mood, ever alert for signs of a change in his attitude ... a return to hostility. "You think I did okay?"

"No," said Sam, "I expected you to do okay. You knocked it out of the park. You and Cas ... it was like you were you and you treated him like him and that's amazing, when you consider the fallout from Michael and how you two could barely be in the same building at first."

"At times, it was hard."

"And it was always gonna be hard. I know you had to work at it, but you did it and when you knew something was wrong, you pushed all the Michael stuff aside and you reached out to him and you were the friend he needed you to be."

"Well, while we're being all positive about stuff, it's clear I chose the right person to trust here. Every moment of the time we spent here, you had my back and his. You never stopped watching. You never stopped supporting me. Yeah, I had to work at it and I did, but I never could have done it without you."

"I really didn't do anything." said Sam.

"Well, that nothing you did was pretty big. Thanks."

Sam looked uncomfortable. He always did when Dean praised him without jokes or insults to temper the real emotion. Dean thought that was probably his fault. Sam was uneasy because he knew it was hard for Dean to express himself so openly. He wished he had seen earlier in their lives how damaging his habit of self-reliance and self-control could be to both of them.

Though it did occur to him that they might not have survived so long if he had not been able to shut off his feelings and appear stronger than he was. In truth, their relationship couldn't have been so badly damaged by it. Sam was still right there with him, being exactly the brother he needed. "Thanks." he said again, "I mean it, Sam. Without you ... "

"Yeah, well, that's never gonna happen." said Sam, "I'm here. I always will be here."

Dean remembered the night he had watched Sam leave for Stanford, all their angry words echoing in his head, along with all the things he could have said, had he been less angry and less afraid. He had believed, that night, that they might never speak again. They were proud and angry and stubborn and Sam believed that Dean had chosen their father's side, just as their father was sure that Dean heard only Sam's part of the argument. 

The conflict between Sam and John Winchester had flared on and off for years, fuelled by too much time apart and also, paradoxically, too much time in cramped motel rooms, breathing each other's stale air and farts, no time or space to walk away except to the parking lot.

Dean had found it stressful too and he had argued with both of them. He also had the Winchester temper and what he now knew to be the Campbell stubbornness and both had sparked trouble too easily. Sam saw leaving as the only solution and half his childhood had been wrapped up in planning how to get out and make his own life. John thought if he could just assert his authority, he could hold his family together. Dean had thought it might work, but now he suspected that five minutes of honesty and a hug might have been a better approach with Sam.

John had been afraid to show weakness in front of his children and they would always be his children, however old they were, however tall Sam grew. He'd feared they would despise him, just as Dean had always hesitated to admit that he felt inadequate to bear the Winchester name, in case they looked at him and said, "You're right. You will never be like us."

It was still so hard to be human in front of Sam, to acknowledge fear and pain to the brother for whom he still felt he had to be a superhero. Sarah always told him, there was nothing he could say that would make Sam think less of him and that was turning out to be true. He had confessed to the lasting damage Hell had done to him, to his fears and insecurities and now to the mess that Michael had left in his head, his brokenness and his shame.

Saying it had been almost impossible. He still didn't know how he had managed to force it out. He suspected that was Sam's doing, all that aggressive listening he had done, repeatedly telling Dean to speak, refusing to allow a change of subject. Even as he had spoken it all, Dean had been watching for the change in his brother's expression, for the look of pity or disdain. Neither had appeared. In fact, Sam had seemed relieved and grateful, awed by the trust Dean was placing in him, determined to support him through everything.

When Sam had left for Stanford, it had felt like a bereavement. Even though they might well meet again and Sam, being Sam, might be civil and reasonable if they met without their father present, they would never again be a family. Words had been said by all three that would never be forgotten and those words, none of which he could repeat in any discussion with his father, had settled as a weight on his chest as he lay sleepless and silent in his bed. 

He had hated himself, then and later, for not knowing the words he could say to make Sam stay. John was angry with him too, even saying at times, "You should have tried harder to reason with him. You know he only listens to you." At the time, it had felt like his failure alone. If he had said the right thing, obviously, Sam would have settled into their weird, nomadic life and he would have kept the family together, which had been his job as far back as he could remember.

But he had lived a long time with the memories of that discordant childhood and he now looked at them with adult eyes, as much as anyone can ever see their own childhood without being, once more, the wounded child. He understood his father better and knew that the words had never been intended to hurt him as they did. They were John's way of torturing himself, pushing away the son of whose love he felt so unworthy, saying aloud what he had always feared: that Sam had always stayed for Dean, not for him.

"Are you okay?" said Sam and Dean realised that he hadn't spoken for some time and that Sam could see the tears in his eyes.

"Just tired." he said, automatically. Then, seeing Sam's shoulders stiffen as he recognised the unmistakable aroma of prime bull, he said, "Habit."

"I know." said Sam.

"I was just thinking of the old days. When you left us for Stanford."

"I would give anything to go back and change that." said Sam.

"I wish I could go back and say what I should have said, that I was proud of you and that you had a right to live your own life."

"Dean, everything that happened needed to happen."

"Destiny?" said Dean.

"No, not destiny. It's just, who we are grew out of what we did and what happened to us. You know, at Stanford, I wanted to call you all the time. I wanted to apologise for the things I said. I wanted to thank you for all the times you took my side. I wanted to hear your voice and know you were okay."

"I wasn't okay."

"No, I know you weren't, but at the time, I thought maybe you'd forgotten me or decided I wasn't worth remembering. I let you down. I always let you down in those days." Sam grinned, "And a lot of times since."

"Never." said Dean.

"I could never call you. I wanted to, but I couldn't."

"Because you thought I didn't care?"

"Because I knew you could make me go back and I knew things would never change between me and Dad."

"They did, though, didn't they?"

"Don't worry, I love him now. I don't know if you've noticed, but we Winchesters sometimes suck at showing affection."

"Yeah, I did notice that." said Dean.

"But some of us are getting better at it." said Sam.

"Which saves a lot of door-slamming and running to California."

"And which means, when one of us needs some support, it's available and it always will be available." said Sam.

"I appreciate that. I do. It's just still not easy to admit that I'm not invulnerable. Especially to you. I kinda miss the days you thought I was a hero."

"I never stopped thinking that." said Sam.

"Well, I did."

"How are you feeling?" said Sam.

"Damned if I know."

"Okay, let's keep it simple. How do you feel about Cas right now?"

Dean thought about it. He felt no rising hostility, no suspicion, only concern. "I'm just worried about him and Jules." said Dean, "Probably stupid. I'm sure they're fine. Do you think they're fine?"

"I don't know." said Sam and Dean was grateful not to be offered some glib assurance. Sam went on, "The no text thing is worrying. She knew he was going through a lot today and usually, she sends a few texts to let him know she's thinking of him."

"She could be busy." said Dean hopefully.

"She could be busy." Sam agreed.

"Do you think he'll tell us if something is wrong?"

Sam smiled at him. "We'll make sure he does. It's good to know you care about him so much. That's another black eye for Michael. You're winning."

Dean nodded briefly. "Not alone." he said, not trusting himself to say more.


	63. Chapter 63

"How are we going to do this?" said Jules nervously.

"Gently." said Cas, "Make yourself comfortable." He could hardly believe she had agreed to this. It showed a trust in him that could overcome years of fearing the powers of angels.

She got onto the bed and watched as he lit several candles and turned out the light. "Why the romantic lighting?" she said.

"This is romantic to you?" he said.

"Under other circumstances, yes." she said.

He smiled at her. "I'll bear that in mind for the future."

"I really messed up our plans for tonight." she said.

"A time to every purpose under Heaven." he replied. He sat on the bed beside her.

"Will this hurt?" she said.

"No. I'm not dragging anything out of your mind. I won't be tampering with your soul. I'll just read your surface thoughts and only those you consent to let me read. The sovereignty of your mind is sacred to me."

He reached out his hand towards her face and she caught it in her own hand. "Whenever I think of Steve, I see his death. I live it all over again."

"Understandable." said Cas, "If you'd rather not do this now, we can do it some other time, when you feel ready."

"I think I need that picture." she said, "But this could be a little too intense for you. It'll always be in my head. There's no reason why it should be in yours."

He kissed her hand. "My head is full of battlefields and pain. I can add one more bad memory. It's better than knowing you bear the burden alone. In this world, he was never born, never real and it's hard to mourn a person who was never real, even if he happened to be very real to you. After this, he will be real to me too and I will remember him forever and maybe knowing that will help you."

"I love you." she said, tears filling her eyes.

"I love you too." he said softly.

She released his hand. "What if I can't show you any image but his death? If you draw that, I think it could break me."

"As I said, one image ... any image, even that one, will give me what I need. Just as I can project the tree from an atom of the wood or predict the movement of quark when I know the galaxy it's in, I can make an image from whatever you can give me."

"At times, I think of you as human." she said, "I'm starting to see how that diminishes you."

"That, my love, is flattery I can never deserve."

"All these things you can do ... " she began.

"A human could make love to you."

"You can and you will." she said.

He thought about what they were about to do and made himself consider the possible complications. "There are two things we need to bear in mind." he said, "The first is, that this may bring up a lot of emotion. You may be overcome by it and you need to know that I will never judge you as weak because you love your brother. To touch your mind is a privilege and an act of faith on your part and I will never use it against you or think less of you."

"No, I know you won't." she said, "What's the other thing?"

"If the Winchesters and I are right about how we opened the mind links ... and I have to say, the fact that Sam and I could do it by choice suggests that we are ... "

"This is half the process." said Jules, "I hadn't thought about that."

"Of course, if we're right, it can't happen without the other half, showing you my mind, but we could be wrong and it may just happen once a connection exists. There is a risk that a link could open up between us."

"And a few weeks ago, that thought would have terrified me. Now, I almost want it to happen."

"You do?" he said.

"I don't feel ready for it yet, but I think the time may come. I am willing to accept the risk."

He kissed her lips and then said, "Focus on your brother. I possible, focus on all that you love about him. I want this to be as painless as possible for you. Remember him laughing. Remember his best days."

"This is terrifying." she said.

"Angel stuff?" he said.

"No, willingly looking into the darkness and risking it becoming a part of your mind forever. Because I will die one day. For you, there's neither death nor forgetting."

"If there is one thing angels were designed for, it was to bear witness to all manner of things without being affected."

"Yeah, you're so great at that. You couldn't even pull a soul out of Hell without becoming his brother." she said.

"And I couldn't work with a human hunter from another reality without falling in love." he said, "And that love makes me want to share your suffering and ease it in any way I can. Let me do that."

"Okay, but don't end up pitying me when I need you to love me." she said.

"Pity is not something that enters my head when it comes to you." he said, "You are stronger than I will ever be."

"You've defied Heaven."

"So have you and it didn't take you billions of years to accept the necessity. I was Heaven's bitch for a very long time."

"Castiel, you were never anybody's bitch." she said, "I'm ready. Do the thing. But if you see anything else, like images of you naked, just remember, it's been an eventful week."

He grinned and put his hand gently over her face. She closed her eyes. He glimpsed her doubts and her shame at having been so emotional and then he saw her brother screaming as the demon slowly and cruelly tore his body apart. He felt her helplessness and her longing for the torture to end, his and hers, then the horrific guilt for that last prayer in her world, which had begged for him to die more quickly, but which felt to her like asking for his death.

He could feel her trying to control her thoughts, remember better times, but childhood laughter was a fragile, feeble sound, drowned out by the screams. Then, suddenly, a sign of her true strength. The face of her brother appeared, free of blood and pain, smiling, laughing and Cas could see his gentleness and generosity, his pride in his family, his near-worship of his clever sister, his sweet, loving, unselfish heart and unstained soul.

She was struggling to hold the image and Cas didn't want her to bear the pain of the other images a moment longer, so he let go of her thoughts and took his hand from her face.

"Did it work?" she said, her voice shaking.

"Yes." he said, "Do you want me to put you to sleep for a while?"

"No," she said, "Could I watch you draw?"

"If you like." he said, no human has ever watched me draw." he said.

"Not even Sarah?"

"Sarah doesn't know I can do it."

"Why not?" she asked.

"Sarah is an artist. It would feel presumptuous to suggest I have any such talent."

"Your humility is adorable." she said.

"I have been, at times, unbearably arrogant." he said. 

He picked up a pencil and Jules passed him her journal, a roughly bound book, homemade in an apocalyptic wasteland. The drawing process was quick, requiring neither thought nor creativity. He simply drew the essence of her image of Stephen, letting all that he had seen show in the picture, except for those horrific images that already haunted her.

As he drew, Jules watched and tears ran unchecked down her cheeks. He gave her the journal with her brother's portrait smiling up at her and tears fell from her chin to bless his work.

"It's him!" she said, "That's his smile. You got his eyes perfectly. I haven't been able to see him that clearly for years."

"Behind all the pain that fogs your memory, he's still clear and real." he said, reaching out to wipe away her tears. "And now, he's real to me too." He tapped his forehead and said, "He's here."

"Thankyou." she said.

"And now he's in my head, you never have to grieve him alone again. Talk to me about him whenever you like, tell me all about who he was. I've seen his death, so show me the good things too. We'll keep his memory alive together, now and forever."

"I think that's the first time you've said forever in connection with our relationship."

"Oh." he said.

"It's okay. I'm not taking it as any kind of promise of permanence. The only promise I will ever need is engraved on this ring."

"I would give you a better pledge if I could." he said.

"I know." she said, "Cas, I'm so sorry you had to see the bad stuff."

"If you have to see it, I need to as well." he said.

"I'm also sorry our big romantic night turned into this." she said.

"We just shared something a lot more intimate than sex." he said.

She looked into his eyes. "Yes, I think we did."


	64. Chapter 64

With no immediate need for his supervision, Dean sent Sam to find their mother and brief her on whatever he felt she needed to know and suggested he should call Sarah and let her know how things were going. He stayed in the Dean Cave, listening to music and trying not to speculate on whether Cas had hit some kind of obstacle in his relationship with Jules.

When his phone rang, he stopped the music and answered it. "Rowena," he said, "What are you up to now?"

"Why do you assume I'm up to something, Dean?" she said.

"Experience." he said. He was surprised how good it felt to hear her voice again.

"I just called because I heard you were back ... not from you, I might add."

"I've been busy." he said.

"I waited a while, in case you still had an archangel on board." said Rowena, "Honestly, Dean, what kind of idiot lets himself get possessed by an archangel?"

"At the time, I didn't feel I had much choice."

"I know, I know. A noble sacrifice, laying down your life for your friends. All very virtuous, but still incredibly stupid. If you had no use for your body, you could have come to me. I have several."

"Just how stupid do you think I am?" he said.

"Do you want that answer as a number, or in a graph?" she said.

He chuckled. 

"I'm glad you're back with us." she said, "Everyone missed you."

"Even you?" he said.

"Well, I'm not the sentimental type, but there were many times I thought, 'I wish Dean were here, taking these stupid risks instead of me.'"

"What stupid risks did you take?" he said.

"I'll have you know I was fully engaged in plotting against your celestial parasite. I still am. I'm working on anything I can find to obliterate the Heavenly bastard." Her voice sounded kinder when she said, "I'd imagine your brother and the angel were very happy to have you home."

"Yes, they were." he said.

"And are you happy to be home?"

He was less sure about that. It still felt too good to be true and if his happiness came at the cost of any of the bunker's other residents, it could mean nothing to him.

She read his hesitation too accurately. "Nothing good ever comes without a price, eh?" she said.

"This time, I really hope it does." he said.

"He took it badly, you know."

"Sam?" he said.

"Castiel. Took to wandering around alone at night. Made some poor decisions. Felt very alone, I think."

"Yeah, Sam said." said Dean.

"Do you know if he has anyone besides you and Samuel? I'm assuming, if he has a private life, you'd know it." She sounded casual, but a little too casual.

"Why are you interested?" he said.

"I'm worried about our little cherub."

"Seraph."

"Whatever. You and your equally emotionally constipated brother don't seem to me to constitute the best support network in the world. I mean, he's been around for a while. Presumably, there have been other people in his life."

"Well, there's Claire." said Dean. Rowena knew of her, although they had never met. It was safe enough to mention her. He had no intention of talking about Jules.

"His sort of daughter."

"They're pretty close." he said.

"He mentioned a liaison." she said.

"Did he?" said Dean, doubting it.

"I assumed you'd know all about it."

"Hell of an assumption. If he has a private life, he's keeping it very private. As far as I know, he has no relationship with anyone outside the family."

"I wonder if that means it's someone you would disapprove of or if it means the relationship is in the past." she said.

"Does it matter?"

"You're remarkably incurious."

"It's none of my business."

"You're in loco Dei. I would think you'd take an interest."

"I'm a loco what?" he said.

"You're in loco Dei. You're standing in for God as far as Tweetypie is concerned. His welfare should be your concern."

"His welfare is. Any romantic entanglements he may or may not have are not."

"And what if she, he or they are like to prove harmful to the wee featherling? You should be aware, he's become a lot less cautious of late."

"In what way?" said Dean. She was trying to get information and that was normal for her and refusing to give it came naturally, but he had the feeling she might also be trying to convey some and that was rare enough to merit attention.

"I'm not betraying a confidence." she said, "I can keep secrets as well as you. All I'm saying is that you might want to keep an eye on his associations and his interests, because sometimes, he is wont to take some foolish risks. Not that all of his recent ideas have necessarily been bad ones."

"I know Sam likes all your riddles, but I don't have the time or the patience. If there's something you want to say, say it."

"Well, since you force me to be direct, I will say this: We cannot afford to lose Castiel and we should not always assume he is thinking clearly. He has been more thoroughly Winchestered than any of us."

"And what, exactly, does that mean?" he said.

"It means his self-presevation is trumped by his personal devotion to you."

"And are you saying the same is true of you?" he said, knowing that would annoy her.

"Me? It'll be a cold day in Hell before I put a Winchester before my own interest. I'm afraid I am quite immune to your charms. That angel of yours, though ... "

"He's not my angel."

"Yes, well I wouldn't tell him that. I don't think he'd cope well with rejection. All I'm saying is, don't assume he's fine, just because he doesn't tell you he isnt." There was a note of genuine concern in her voice. Perhaps she was fonder of Cas than she liked to admit.

"Don't worry," said Dean, "I know what he's worth and I know he's a little vulnerable at times. Things are a little messed up for now, but he's high on my list of priorities."

"As he should be. We have one of Heaven's best weapons. We shouldn't let it rust away to nothing." There was a pause and then she said, "What things are messed up?"

He thought about lying, or refusing to answer, but he decided he needed to give her something. "Me." he said, "Michael's possession ... "

"Say no more." she said, sounding sympathetic, "Having that kind of power inside you, controlling you, that righteous, arrogant ego calling the shots, keeping you down, of course it left some unfortunate effects. To be honest, I'm impressed you're not a gibbering wreck."

"Thanks." he said.

"Take comfort from the fact that you turned out to be a lot stronger than he expected." she said, "I'm currently trying to find a way to ping him out of whatever vessel he's in, but if you want me to come to the bunker and ... "

"No." he said quickly, not wanting her to see how things had changed between him and Cas, "No, you keep doing what you're doing. No point keeping a witch of your calibre in reserve at a time like this."

"No, there really isn't." she said, sounding pleased, "You take care, now. Watch the angel, make sure your brother looks after himself and try to avoid handing your body over to anyone who isn't a highly trustworthy ally."

"I'll do my best, Rowena." he promised, "You stay as bad and beautiful as you are."

"Flatterer." she said, "I'm glad you got free. Impressed and glad."

He hadn't gotten free and that weighed on his mind a lot, but she was not the one to confide in about that. He started the music up again, reminding himself that not being a gibbering wreck was a triumph, in a way.


	65. Chapter 65

The soft candlelight seemed right for the situation. Humans, Cas knew, had a tendency to feel safer when they could feel their features and expressions were somewhat concealed. Dean would say things driving at night that he could not when harsh daylight showed his brother every emotion on his face. Of course, low light did not alter the angel's own vision and Jules knew that as well as Dean did, but it was emotionally comforting to have just candles illuminating her vulneranbility.

It was helpful to him, too and he knew that the only witness to his feelings did see less in the low light. She wasn't fooled. She knew him too well to think he could be unaffected by her pain, but she also seemed to accept that he needed to be a part of this for her.

"I meant what I said." he said gently, "I saw his death through your eyes, so there is nothing for you to hold back about. We can talk about that or about the better times, anything. I'd like to know more about him."

She nodded. "I love you, Cas. I'm just afraid to think about him. Every instinct tells me to push that stuff down so far I forget it's there."

"Has that ever worked?" he said.

"I don't think I should waste our time together with old-world grief and misery."

He drew her into his arms and held her tightly. "The grief came with you into this new world. When I thought Dean was dead, you didn't leave me to figure it out alone. When I crumbled to nothing, you stayed with me. You held me. I remember you stroking my head. This world or your world, now or in the future, your pain is my pain, your loss my loss."

She looked at the open journal in her hand. "I have this, because of you." she said.

"And because of you, your brother's face is now vivid in my mind. I want you to tell me the story that goes with it. I want to hear it all, told as and when you feel ready to tell it." he said.

"He would have liked you." she said, "Not my other boyfriends. Oh, he hated the ones he met. He would've spent ten minutes talking to you and he'd have said, 'Finally, Jules, you found yourself a good guy.' He liked integrity. He liked compassion."

"He loved you. I saw it in his eyes."

"Sometimes we annoyed each other. It's a sibling thing. You and the Winchesters know how that goes. He did love me, though."

"He wanted to be like you."

"He was better than me. Sweeter, you know, kinder. After he died, I tried sometimes to be a little more like him. I felt like the better one of us had died and I needed to make up for that somehow." She wiped tears from her face with the back of her hand. "I look terrible when I cry. Some people can cry and be pretty. Not me."

"You're beautiful to me." said Cas.

"You know what's really sweet? I know you don't know how to flatter people, so you mean that."

"Yes, I do. I see nothing ugly, weak or shameful in tears. You cry because you love your brother. I love mine. I have shed tears for the Winchesters. I am not ashamed of that, though I'd prefer they never know. Not shame, it would just be awkward."

"Don't worry. I get it." she said.

"You get everything." said Cas, "And through all this situation with Dean, knowing I have your sympathy and support has helped more than I can say. Which is why you should never feel bad about accepting mine. I only want to do for you what you have always done for me."

Her eyes met his and she smiled. "When I first knew I had feelings for you, I thought it was crazy to imagine an angel could care much about a human or that I, with my history, could ever come to love an angel. Now, I just wonder why it took me so long to know you were the love of my life. Of course, for a while there, I thought you and Dean were together."

"We are, until his last breath or mine."

"I know, but I mean together together."

"That just sounds to me like the same word said twice with slightly different emphasis."

"I mean like this." she said and she kissed him teasingly, then tenderly.

"Oh." he said, "Dean and I have never done that."

"He has no idea what he's missing." she said. She put the journal under her pillow. "I do want to talk about him, but not today. Today, it's just too much."

"When you're ready, I'll be here." he said, "For now, maybe, I should put you to sleep. I know all this being raked up has been exhausting for you and you got no real sleep last night."

"I do need to sleep," she said, "But if you're okay with it, I'd rather try to fall asleep naturally."

"Why wouldn't I be okay with it?" he said.

"You might have other places you need to be and I'll only be able to sleep if you're here, holding me like this."

"There is nowhere else I need or want to be." he said. He touched her face and the tracks of the tears were gone.

"What did you do?" she said.

"Nothing of consequence." he replied, "Just trying to make you more comfortable."

"I don't usually ask this, Cas, but I don't want anyone to know how I fell apart today."

"You could tell Sarah." he said, "She would understand."

"I know she would and I may tell her one day, but for now, I feel very, very exposed and that's fine between us, but I need to be able to look people in the eye."

"I won't say anything." said Cas.

"Thanks. I love you, Castiel." she whispered.


	66. Chapter 66

Sam had called Sarah first and she had been delighted with Dean's progress and his determination to continue it. She gently hinted that now might be a good time for Sam to visit the farm and he had reminded her that Dean had asked him to stick around. 

He knew he could as easily have gone to see her at night, when Dean would be in his room. Sarah hardly, after all, kept office hours, but she took his refusal well. She knew he genuinely feared to leave Dean without his support, even when he should be asleep and the fact that she knew avoiding discussion of his own issues was at least an equal factor but chose not to call him out on it increased his love for her even more.

After that, he had sought his mother out in the library and given her a less detailed, but equally honest account of all that had happened. Seeing her furrowed brow soften back to loving interest, from full-on worry, was a fine reward. "I'm so glad he has you." she said.

"I'm glad he wants me to help." said Sam, "By the way, you didn't tell him Cas was sulking earlier, did you?" 

"He wasn't. Dean seemed to think he was avoiding him, but I never said that."

Sam nodded. "I guess we can't expect miracles. Everything is being fed through a very negative filter."

"Yes and still Dean is overcoming it."

He smiled at her. "True."

"I've noticed that he always seems to assume the worst. I know this is more than his usual pessimism, but he does read something negative into almost everything."

"Yes, he can be like that." said Sam, "I think we both can. Life has just punched us in the face once too often for us to be positive all the time, but we try. We do try."

"And Castiel is the same. Everything is a criticism or a dismissal. If I say 'Good morning!' wrong, he replies politely and then turns and leaves."

"He carries around a very negative opinion of himself and no matter what we say, there's always a part of his mind saying he means nothing to anyone. That's why Jules is so good for him. She has a real instinct for his negative self-talk and she'll address it directly. There's a real honesty between them and when she says she loves him, he mostly believes it." He chuckled. "He still doesn't understand it, but he believes it."

She was about to answer when Bobby came into the library and, seeing them, came over. He looked uncomfortable and Sam had a feeling he knew what Bobby wanted to discuss.

"I was hoping to find you two." he said, "I think we should talk."

"About?" said Sam.

"About your brother. And before you knock me down for the sake of Winchester pride, I'm not saying he's not up for the fight. I know as well as anybody, Dean can and will fight to his last breath and still win. I mean no disrespect to him at all, but I think it could be better for him if we sideline him a little right now. So, you wanna tell me what kind of state he's in and what the plan is?"

Sam nodded. It was a fair question. "Officially, Dean is back and ready for action."

"And off the record?" said Bobby.

Sam hesitated. He glanced at his mother, who nodded her support.

"Off the record, if Michael turns up, Dean is frontline. We'd have to kill him to keep him out of that fight, but apart from that, I want as little pressure on him as possible. He's going through some stuff."

"Of course he is. Angel infestation is a nightmare. Archangels are even worse. I've seen former vessels catatonic. I've seen 'em howling mad. I can't imagine what one of those things does to your head. And yet, if I were asked who in this bunker had been an archangel's meat puppet, Dean would not be the one that sprang to mind. He fakes normal very well."

"Yes, he does." said Sam, "And we have to let him do this his way."

"Is there someplace he could go?" said Bobby, "Here, with everyone watching him ... That would drive me crazy and he's been through a lot worse than I ever have."

"For now, at least, he wants to be here. If that changes, we'll figure something out. It would help a lot if you could distract people from taking too much of an interest."

"Gotcha. Anyone starts asking questions, I'll remind them, this is Dean Winchester we're talking about. You only have to look at him to know he's on top of his game. I'll push the legend, hard. Jules won't be fooled, but you're keeping her in the loop anyway, right?"

"Actually, Dean is. He and Jules ... they understand each other. He's being more open with her than with most."

"And how's he being with you?" said Bobby, with obvious concern for him.

Sam smiled in way he hoped would put Bobby's mind at ease. "Actually, he's being very honest with me. It feels like we're on the same team this time."

Bobby looked into his eyes for a moment and then nodded. "You two have really only had each other for most of your lives, right?"

"And Castiel." said Sam, "And other you."

"Oh yeah, him. He was pretty great."

"I never met a Bobby Singer I didn't like." said Sam.

"Neither did I." said his mother, "Though I've only met one."

"This is your army," said Bobby, "And you know I will never try to take your place with them or undermine your command, but holding your brother above the flames could be a full-time job and if you ever need me to lead the grunts so you can focus on your family, you say the word."

"Thanks. Bobby," said Sam, "I think Dean would see that as a dereliction of duty, because he never thinks I should put him first in anything, but knowing I can count on you means a lot. Like I said, we have zero chance of deflecting him from the big fight, but if you can keep the hunts below his radar, that'll give him time. A little time could be all he needs."

"I hope he knows what a good brother he has." said Bobby.

Mary patted Sam's arm. "Oh, believe me, he does." she said.

"I know neither of you boys is superhuman," said Bobby, "And you could need some back-up at any time, in any way. Just know it's here, when you do."

"The not being superhuman thing ... " said Sam.

"Don't worry. They won't hear it from me."


	67. Chapter 67

Dean felt unsettled. He trusted Sam to say the right thing to both ladies, but he had always hated knowing that people were talking about him. Well, that wasn't entirely true. The kind of talk that ran along the lines of, "Dean's a badass. He can take out a big nest of vamps and not take a scratch!" was fine and he could tolerate a lot of the kind that said, "Best night I ever had!" but the kind that talked about how he was handling his decaying mental health or how he was handling anything that was an actual struggle made him edgy and apprehensive.

He both wanted to hear what was being said and hoped they would keep it to themselves. It seemed stupid to worry like a little kid over what Sam was saying to Mom, especially as that had never been an issue when they were kids. Sam had never had a chance to talk to her. At least now, he was getting that chance.

All his fears about the others seemed stupid when he put them under the microscope. The fear that the angel who had repeatedly died for them would plot against him? Dumb. The thought that Sam the diplomat miht accidentally make things worse for him? Idiotic. The nagging feeling that he should not trust a docile, powered-down nephilim who considered him family? Insane.

His fears about himself made a lot more sense. He was weak. Check. He was cruel. Check. He lashed out without thinking. Check. He had not been strong enough to drive out a possessing archangel when they were supposed to leave as soon as consent was withdrawn.

Maybe he hadn't withdrawn it. Maybe he was so terrified of being alone that carrying around a psychotic parasite seemed preferable. Maybe he had sold out his own people, the whole of humanity, in fact, because deep inside him that useless, scared, fractured little brat was still scared to be alone in the dark.

In that case, why hadn't he ditched Michael and returned to the angel he could trust with his life? He couldn't be that screwed up. In fact, if he had been that screwed up, how did he still know that was screwed up? Or was it merely that he couldn't admit the need, to himself or to Michael or to Castiel? Was he so afraid of talking of need and love to the angel who had seen his soul that he would rather tolerate an archangel he hated? Now that was seriously messed up.

But the Destiel thing. The Hell thing. The Purgatory thing. All could be neatly summed up as the Dean Thing and he could hardly blame Michael for that. When it had been just the three of them, alone against the world, long before he knew angels were a thing, seven years old, he had wanted to tell his exhausted, grief-destroyed father that he loved him, but he had failed. The words could not be spoken. It had felt like a demand ... a cry for attention. It had felt needy and stupid and selfish. So he had poured his father a glass of whisky, handed him a roughly-made sandwich and said, "It's okay, Dad." and his father had gently gripped his shoulder for a second and said, "You're a good kid." which had felt like "I love you." to a child so hungry to hear it that way.

These days, he knew that was precisely how it had been intended. Same with the last minute offer of an extra clip of ammo before they went hunting together, or the extra blanket for the boys on cold nights in imperfect lodgings, or the syrup on the oatmeal or the pat on the back. It wasn't that John had been lacking in love for his sons, he just had no vocabulary of affection and a fear of showing or encouraging weakness.

Did that make his son so desperate for any interaction that his subconscious had battled against his conscious mind withdrawing consent. Sam and Cas both said it was not his fault, but they would say that. He would have said the same to them, true or not, because the thought that he had invited ... that he had been so weak and so desperate ... that he had chosen Michael because he couldn't ask Cas to reopen the mental link ... 

It all made a terrible kind of sense.

Dean had always prided himself on being rational and even if it took a few years, he would think things through until he made sense of them. If all this were his fault ... more his fault, that is, than he already knew it to be ... he should just accept it and work out how to deal with that. That was the rational, mature, intelligent thing to do.

And he almost believed that. But there was an old lady, thirty minutes away, who would argue against that very forcefully. He acknowledged that what seemed rational to him might be another symptom of his hellscape headspace.

She answered his call at once. "Dean! How are you?"

He realised that he had no idea what he wanted to say. He chose not to go with the usual, automatic lie that he was fine. "Sam's doing a great job." he said.

"According to him, so are you." she said.

"Because of him. Having him around is making it a lot easier to be around Cas."

"Good." she said. She wasn't making any guesses as to why he had called and she seemed disinclined to ask a lot of questions.

"Now he's not here. I think he's talking to Mom. Which is okay. I'm fine with that. But I'm on my own and I'm thinking."

"What are you thinking?" she said.

"Stuff I really don't want to think." he said, "But maybe there are truths I need to face. Maybe ... "

"Maybe ... ?" she said.

He swallowed hard. When the words were said, they would feel real. They were real. Just holding them in his head had convinced him they were cold, hard facts. When he said them to her, she would see the truth of them at once and would know he had been weaker than she ever suspected. "I ... " he said. He wondered if she already knew. Maybe she was only waiting for him to understand his complicity. Maybe even that could be soothed away by her understanding and compassion for those who did weak and stupid things in fear.

"I think you need to be around Sam for now." she said.

"You already know, don't you?"

"Only that something is causing you a lot of distress. Solitary thought can go one of two ways, empowering and enlightening or self-accusatory and imprisoning. Which are you dealing with today?"

"Maybe both." he said, "I've been wondering how Michael overcame the need for consent."

"I assumed it was the same way he began to do things that were allegedly forbidden to angels, like usurping the authority of God." she said, "Listen to Castiel sometime, reciting all the things angels can't do, most of which he has done."

"What if I ... Sarah, what if he didn't need to, because I didn't fully withdraw consent?"

"Dean, dear, I have tried asking you to do things you don't want to and believe me, when you don't consent to something, you are not messing around."

"No, but what if ... "

"What if some well-hidden part of you liked being free of responsibility?"

"Yes."

"Or what if you wore a provocative outfit to a bar because secretly ... "

"Don't." he said.

"Victim-blaming is monstrous, Dean and it doesn't become less so if the victim blames himself. Even if you were desperate for domination or powerlessness or just for your head not to feel so lonely for a while, I know that you would have resisted Michael with every bit of strength you had. You would never give in to him."

"But what if I did?"

"Sam says it was you that fought Lucifer, not Michael."

"How could he even know that?"

"He knows. Even I know and I wasn't there. You held onto control in the middle of a battle for the lives of Sam and Jack. That's strength. Afterwards, you were tired and weak and he took advantage to seize control, but you still fought him. You still refused to surrender."

"I want to believe that, but since I was a kid ... "

"You had a miserable childhood and it's true, you still have unmet needs from that time that seriously impact your life now. There may even be some of those unmet needs that Michael, in entirely the wrong way and for entirely the wrong reasons, seemed to meet for a while."

"Exactly."

"I know you don't trust yourself, but do you trust me?" she said.

"I don't know why, but I always have."

"You were stronger as a child than most people are as adults. There are combat veterans who are not as hard and strong as that little boy you were. Yes, you have deep wounds and they sometimes affect your judgement."

"Yes, they do."

"Know what they never do? They never, ever corrupt you and you would still sacrifice everything you want ... everything you have, for this world or any other. Because that little boy had one thing to cling to, his sense of service to others. No matter what personal needs you felt, you would never allow him to stay when you knew it would cost innocent lives."

"You're sure of that?"

"Yes, Dean, as is everyone else who knows you."

Tears blurred his vision before he blinked them back. "Thanks, Sarah. I'm glad I called you. My head was full of ... well, it wasn't good."

"You know, calling me instead of wallowing in self-loathing is a huge step for you. Give yourself a cookie later."

"Will do."

"I think you should call Sam and tell him you need to have him around. Don't worry that you're being a burden. He told me being needed by you is a great feeling. He finally gets to repay all those years of support you gave him."

"The kid's memory is shot to Hell."

"The kid is no longer a kid. I think his memory is fine. Call him, keep him close. Give yourself a break."

"I love you, Sarah." he said, glad that it was easier to say to her than to his father.

"I love you too." she said, "I'm so proud of you. And give that little kid you're so tough on a big hug from me."

"I think he just had one." he said.


	68. Chapter 68

Sam was watching Jack watching Netflix when he got the single-word text, "Busy?"

He sent back, "No."

The delay before Dean answered was too long. Sam knew what it meant. Dean needed something, but was unable to say it. "Problem?" he sent.

"No." came back, soon followed by, "Yes." then "No." again, then "Forget it."

"What's wrong?" said Jack.

"Nothing. Dean just wants to talk to me." said Sam.

"Oh, okay."

Sam called Dean's phone. "Where are you?"

"I'm going to my room I think maybe all I need is some sleep. You do whatever you're doing. I'm okay."

"I'm on my way." said Sam.

"It's fine." said Dean, "I'm just ... "

"Two minutes." said Sam, endimg the call before Dean could argue.

When he got to Dean's room, he didn't bother to knock. He went in and closed the door behind him. Dean was sitting on the bed. "Sorry I bothered you."

"No apologies, okay?" said Sam, "What's going on?"

"Nothing." said Dean then he dropped eye contact for a second and said, "Okay, something, but it's dumb." He looked uncertainly at Sam. "I called Sarah and she thought I should have you around because solitary thought can be good or it can be ... less good and she thinks this is the less good kind."

"Did you call her because you also thought that?" said Sam.

"I don't know. These days, I'm not sure why I do anything. Calling her just seemed like the right idea."

"It was." said Sam, "It always is." He sat on the end of the bed. "If I ask you what the solitary thoughts were, are you gonna clam up?"

Dean gave a brief and incomplete smile. "You know me well, Sam."

"Yeah, I do."

"And I'll bet you've given a lot of thought to the Michael situation."

"Just a bit."

"I mean the me and Michael situation." said Dean, "How he managed to breeze past the whole consent thing and retain possession. How and why I let him do that."

"Let him do it?"

"So you've been thinking the same thoughts I've been thinking, but with a cool head and a little distance."

Sam's first response was surprise, but thinking about it, he knew he should have expected it. There was nothing for which Dean could not, given time, find a way to blame himself.

If he argued too quickly, Dean would hear it as a rehearsed response, prepared in advance so when he realised what he had done, he could be distracted from it. If he didn't argue quickly enough, Dean would hear it as agreement.

"I was there." he said quietly.

"I know you were." said Dean, "You saw what went down."

"I didn't see him breeze past anything. I saw him fighting all the way and you fighting to resist him."

"He won far too easily."

"Yeah, for a low-level demon. This is God's most powerful archangel we're talking about." Dean's expression had not changed. He was not listening. He had virtually convicted himself and he would only hear witnesses for the prosecution. Sam hadn't wanted to bring up Lucifer, but he felt he had no choice. "Dean, when I fought Lucifer in my own head, he brushed away my resistance like it was nothing. I was like a toddler facing down a tornado. I had no chance."

"You won."

"No. I lost. I conclusively lost. Later, I had another chance and I took it, but if he hadn't tried to make me kill you .... if you hadn't been there, with the Impala ... " He shuddered, remembering the horrors of that day and how complete his own defeat had nearly been. "In all the years since, you have never once said I was weak that day or that I let him take control."

"You weren't and you didn't."

"Archangels are almost infinitely powerful. They're focused. They're absolute. We are like gnats compared to them. You fought Michael, but he was stronger, because he's a frickin' archangel and you're human."

"I'm not sure I did put up much of a fight."

"Like I said, I was there."

Dean gave the weird semi-smile again. "I'm at a disadvantage here."

"How so?"

"Because the last thing I wanna do is convince you I'm right, "

"Or maybe because you know that you're wrong. I get it, Dean. Guilt is your thing. Guilt is easy, because when you can't punish the bad guys, having yourself as the fall guy gives you someone to hurt, someone to hate."

"You think I want this guilt?" said Dean.

"I think you feel you need it. Why else would you try so hard to make yourself the scapegoat for every bad thing that happened from the moment you were born?"

"This isn't like that. He needed consent, so if I had truly withdrawn consent, he would have had to leave."

"Yeah. No. You may not have noticed, but the problem with archangels is, they pick and choose what rules to obey. You withdrew consent and he didn't want to go, so he ignored that."

"How?"

"Same way Lucifer rebelled against God." A thousand frenzied reactions to that name battered at his mind and he struggled to control them. Somewhere, far in the back of his head, Castiel's voice whispered, "Here if you need me."

"Thanks, Cas." he sent back silently, "I'm okay."

Dean wasn't. The set of his shoulders, the tension in his hands, the fruitless attempt to hide how troubled he was, all told Sam that nothing he was saying had made the slightest impact. "Talk to me." he said.

Dean stared down at the bedlinen, unable, it seemed, to look him in the eye.

Sam spoke calmly. "If you blame yourself for any of this, Dean, you're wrong."

Silence. Dean was not listening. Sam wondered if he had even heard.

"Dean?" he said.

When Dean spoke, his voice was a little unsteady. "Sam, it's not just about what's happened. It's about what's coming. If I can't fight him ... "

"You've done nothing but fight various versions of Michael for years."

"I always thought I'd never say yes. Then I thought I could limit his control or at least expel him. Findng ou that I can't or won't do that ... "

"You did do that."

"No. He left. When ... when Luci ... No. Sorry. I don't need to know."

"What? Come on, Dean. At this point, there's nothing I won't tell you, if you need to know."

"Did it ever feel ... Hell, I don't even know what I'm asking. Go back to Mom. I can't make this make sense to myself, so I can't expect you to understand it."

"I do." said Sam, a little above a whisper.

"What?"

"I do understand it. I went through the same thing, of course I understand it. I know how it feels to be invaded on every level, to be helpless, unable even to scream, but wanting to at every moment."

"I never meant to remind you of that."

"Please. You think I ever forget? You think I ever will?"

"I'm sorry, Sam."

Sam put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "For the first time, I'm seeing a silver lining. At least I can understand whar you're going through."

"I wish I did."

Sam let go of his shoulder, wishing he knew whether to offer comfort or pretend he didn't see how much Dean needed it. "I know how it feels." he said, "I know how it tears apart your sense of self, destroys everything you think you know about who you are."

"Is that how it was for you?" said Dean, suddenly making eye contact.

Sam couldn't help but smile. "Stop worrying about me, Dean."

"I've tried. Doesn't work." said Dean.

"You're not weak because you were temporarily defeated by an archangel. You're strong because you never stopped fighting him."

"I'm not sure I even fought at all and that makes me weak."

"You fought and you're still fighting him now, but they twist your mind against itself. They're so corrupt, they make you feel contaminated. It's like a stain you can never clean off."

"Never?" said Dean and for a moment, Sam thought he was afraid for himself, but then he saw that look of brotherly concern and knew Dean was again worrying about him and his wounds of the distant past.

"Can we focus on you for a moment?" said Sam.

"Is this what you feel every single day?" said Dean, "Have you lived with this since ... "

"Dean, please. This is not about me."

"Which is as clear a yes as I'm ever going to get from you."

"How about you stop deflecting for five seconds and tell me how you, personally, feel right now?"

"The truth?"

"The truth."

"I'm scared, Sam, scared that I can't trust myself and worse, that you can't trust me. If I'm compromised ... if there's some dark corner of my soul that has a weakness for angelic contact ,,, "

"Are you conflating what you feel for Cas with ,,, "

"Hey, easy on the big words, college boy! I don't know what that means."

"You know exactly what it means."

"If I'm not able to refuse or resist Michael's possession of this vessel, I am a danger to everyone here ... to everyone in this world."

"You're the strongest of us, you always have been."

"That's a lie, Sam and you know it. Anyway, I never felt weaker in my life." Dean looked at his watch. "You've wasted a lot of time on me today. You have other stuff to do."

"No I don't." said Sam.

"I'm not gonna do anything stupid."

"Just think a lot of stupid things?" said Sam.

"It's not your job to look after me." said Dean.

"Not only is it specifically my first and most important job, it's the job you asked me to do."

"Why do you want to stay and listen to all this crap?" said Dean.

Sam smiled. "Because I can argue with it."

"What if I'm right?"

Sam grinned. "You never have been before."

"I should break your nose for that." said Dean, but he was smiling.


	69. Chapter 69

Dean had been quiet for a long time and Sam wasn't sure whether he should speak or not. He decided to risk it. "If there's something you need to talk about, there's nothing you can't say to me... plenty you won't say, nothing you can't."

Dean nodded. "I know."

"What were you gonna ask about Lucifer?"

Dean met his eyes for a second and then looked away. "I don't know. Nothing, I guess. My mind is going off in all directions and it's not consulting me about any of them."

"You are your mind." said Sam.

"I hope not, Sammy, because that dude is crazy."

"You've been crazy for years." said Sam, trying to lighten the atmosphere a little. The question Dean would not ask was burning in his eyes and they were both well aware that Dean knew every syllable if what he wanted or needed to say, but would not.

Sam knew the question too, but he hoped Dean didn't know how well he knew it, or how many times he had asked it of himself. Did it feel good, to be the conduit for all that power, to be, for a brief time, one of the most powerful creatures in the universe, to just not be a weak, human, cursed Winchester. Dean needed to ask it and he needed Sam to answer, but which answer he needed to hear and how Sam could give a confident answer when he had never managed to answer it for himself ... well, those things were less clear.

Dean needed an answer, or at least an acknowledgement that having the question in his head did not show he was corrupted. Even if the answer lay somewhere in Sam's mind ... and he was fairly sure it didn't ... how could he answer a question Dean was determined not to ask?

Whatever he said or did, he could not make Dean feel more vulnerable and if Dean for a moment felt judged, he would shut down all communication and consider his self-loathing fully endorsed by Sam. He remembered how it felt, to bear the constant recriminations of his conscience, augmented by the way Lucifer had always made him feel that it had all been his fault, that he had chosen the dark side and given Lucifer power over him. He knew how it felt to be afraid to confide in his brother, the one person whose opinion of him mattered and confess to weakness, collusion and shame.

If he said nothing, he failed his brother. If he said the wrong thing, he could destroy him. He found himself wondering how Dean had always managed to say the right thing when they were kids. Then he wondered whether he always had, or whether Sam remembered only the best of his brother as Dean forgot and forgave so many of his own lapses.

Dean needed him to say something and if it couldn't be perfect, it could at least be brave. Dean was far too vulnerable, deeply afraid and there was nothing Sam could do to reassure him, except maybe to ensure he wasn't vulnerable alone.

"Can I tell you something?" he said.

Big Brother Mode was instantly engaged. "Of course you can." said Dean.

"There were lots of bad things about being ... about having Lucifer around. You know that I hate him, right? That I will always hate him?"

"I know that, Sammy." said Dean.

"I hated everything about him. Everything he said and did just disgusted me. When he ... when he touched me, I recoiled. When he possessed me ... " He choked, unable to go on.

"I know, Sam. I know. You don't have to talk about this."

"There's something you don't know. Sometimes ... and I have never told anyone this, not even Cas or Sarah ... Sometimes, I felt ... I thought ... I felt like ... It almost felt good. It wasn't my fault. Nothing was my fault. Briefly, I had a taste of near infinite power without any responsibility. No decisions to be made, no consequences to endure."

"Sam ... " said Dean and Sam didn't know whether he was appalled or relieved.

"It was never good. I never truly enjoyed it. He wanted me to. They want to make us complicit. They want us to feel like we chose it. Deep down, though, I always feared a part of me liked it."

Dean stared at him and then said, "Sam, you were never anything but good. Lucifer, Ruby, Azazel, they tricked you and they manipulated you and you made mistakes, but you only ever wanted to do good. Whatever you felt or thought you felt, it was their manipulation. You have to keep that firmly in your mind."

Dean meant every word. Even now, wounded as he was, he would fight any of Sam's demons to the death. Sam hoped that some part of his mind was making the connection between Sam's demons and his own.

"I've always wondered if there were some flaw or weakness in me that ... "

"Well, don't!" said Dean, "You start thinking like that, it'll make you crazy. That son of a bitch didn't want you because of some flaw. He wanted to use your strength. Weak, you would have been worthless to him. They twist everything, Sam. Strength is weakness, endurance is complicity, friendship is corruption, fear is submission. They twist it all, until all you have left in your head is some damn angel sickness that makes you hate yourself and your friends and turns every thought in your head sick and wrong."

"How can I fight it?" said Sam, adding silently in his head, "Asking for a friend."

"You tell yourself that nothing from them is real or true. It's all just lies to strengthen their hold. They kill your faith in yourself so you dont try to assert your will. They kill your faith in others so you won't go to them for help. They poison your mind so you stop believing in your ability to think."

"That's some pretty clear thinking right there." said Sam.

"You may not believe this, Sammy, but I'm more screwed up than you are."

"Are you?" said Sam.

"In fact, I need to ask a favour and it will sound pathetic."

"Anything." said Sam.

Dean shook his head. "Hasn't life taught you by now never to write a blank cheque like that?"

"I guess not." said Sam, "Come on. What do you need?"

"I don't think I can face breakfast with people around. If you could just bring me a bag of chips or something at around 6 am, that would be great."

"I can do better than a bag of chips." said Sam.

"Great, but be discreet. I don't want anyone thinking I'm hiding in here."

"Of course."

"Even though that is absolutely what I'm doing. I want you to know that I know that and that I know that you know that and that, even if you didn't know that, I wouldn't want to deceive you ... just them."

"Thanks."

"And I know you probably think ... "

"No. I don't. I don't think there's any shame in sometimes needing a little time alone."

"Hiding."

"No shame in that, either, as long as it doesn't become a way of life." said Sam, impressed by Dean's honesty at such a difficult time.

Dean looked at his hands, resting in his lap. When he spoke again, his voice was much quieter. "And I also want you to know, I get why you said what you said and I know how hard it was to say it, because I couldn't."

"I thought it may help." said Sam.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Did it?"

"The thought of what that ... "

"Dean, forget me, for a second."

"What are we gonna do? Two angel-wrecked derelicts."

"No. We survived and made it home. We won, Dean."

"You won." said Dean, "I fell a little short of victory. I was just ditched."

"You know I don't believe that." said Sam, "You should get some rest. I could get Cas to ... "

"No! I know it's stupid, but the thought disgusts me. No angel powers around me. If Cas and I are gonna get our friendship back, I need as few reminders as possible that he's one of theirs."

"He hates Michael more than you do." said Sam.

"If he didn't, I wouldn't want our friendship restored." said Dean.


	70. Chapter 70

Castiel's night had been a good one, despite the pain he had chosen to share. Her grief had oddly not added to his own, but had rather sat down beside it in his head, offering it both legitimacy and empathy. Each knew how it was to lose a brother. Each knew how it was to be around people for whom that relationship had never been real.

She lay sleeping in his arms now, exhausted from struggling with emotions that had been buried too long and he understood that too. Most of all, he understood that she could have sent him away when he found her at the Jeep. She could have told him it was none of his business and told him to go. She had chosen instead to share her pain and loss and allow him, in his inconsequential way, to offer the only comfort he could, a simple sketch of the face she would never see again.

She had trusted him at a time when he most needed someone's trust Dean's suspicious looks and sudden evasions were agony to him. The friend who had shared so much in a mental connection, suddenly wanted no contact with him at all, mental, physical or emotional. It made him feel worthless and hopeless, unconnected to this world, unwanted by Heaven.

It had taken a refugee from another world, equally rootless in this one, equally burdened by unendurable losses, to make him feel he had a purpose. He may not matter to Dean or even to Sam and Jack, both of whom seemed withdrawn and preoccupied these days, but he meant something to Jules. His simple picture had brought her some peace.

He watched her sleep for a long time before a movement of her hand told him that she was waking. He kissed her cheek, wanting her to wake to a reminder that she was not alone.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him. "What time is it?" she said.

"Almost five." he said.

"You watched over me all night?"

"I always do." he said, "You can sleep some more, if you like. I don't think there's a hunt in preparation today. You sleep and Ill bring you breakfast in a few hours."

She sat up. "That's sweet, but I need to get up and get on with things. I kinda crumbled last night and thanks for letting me do that without censure or judgement, but I need to be Jules again now, not frail Juliette. Does that make sense?"

"Of course." he said, "You're not my first hunter." He smiled and added, "You're just my favourite."

"The side of me you saw last night ... I usually hide that a lot better." she said, "I've been so scared of letting you glimpse all that and watching you back away. Then I end up showing you the whole terrible mess and what do you do? You just embrace it all."

"I didn't do much. I wish I could do more."

"You did plenty, Cas. I showed you my deepest wound. You could have walked away, or stuck another knife in. Instead, you did the one thing that could make a start on healing it. That picture ... As long as I live, I'll treasure it. You captured who he was."

"No, I didn't. Who he was was emblazoned across your mind. I told you, angels cannot create, only report. I drew exactly what I saw in your mind. Your love for him decided the image."

"Your love for me made you draw it." she said. She touched his cheek, her lightest touch always affected him more than any other physical sensation. "After so long alone, I forgot how it felt to be loved. Then I found you. And now I find I can be myself around you. You have no idea how that feels."

"Believe me, I do." he said, "It's a precious thing, this relationship between us." He kissed her and whispered, "And more precious now than ever."

"I feel the same way." she said. She got out of bed and grabbed her robe. "I might take a long, hot bath and hope to come out of it able to pass for a strong, reliable hunter."

"Do you want me to wait for you here?" he said.

"No. You should go check on Dean. I know you're worried about him. I'll be fine. I'll find Mary. We can talk hunting. It's too easy to fall into total honesty with you. Not that total honesty wasn't exactly what I needed last night. I mean it, Cas. Last night was amazing. I've never been able to share like that with anyone."

"If you need me ... if you ever need me, my phone is always in my pocket and I will always come to you."

"Thanks. I know it would be easier if I could just pray ... "

"But you can't and I will never ask you to." he said, "The Winchesters prefer phones too. At least I know your reason for disliking prayer is not solely because I am an angel."

"I don't think theirs is either." she said.

"Maybe not, in Sam's case."

"The way Dean is now is because of Michael. It's not how he really feels." she said. She took his hand and held it for a moment. "Are you okay? Because if you're feeling rejected and unloved, I'm not going anywhere."

"Go. Have your bath." he said, "Dean being the way he is ... It's painful, but hardly unexpected."

"And because of Michael." she said.

"Mostly." he agreed.

"Aside from Sam, there is no-one closer to Dean than you." she said.

"I know." he said, "I'm okay. I'm better than okay, because I have you. Whatever issues I have with Dean, you still love me."

"Forever." she said. Then she awkwardly rearranged the robe she carried over her arm and said, "Bad word to choose, I know, but I can promise that and I know you can't."

"It's a good word. It's a beautiful word. I just wish I could say it back to you. I wish I could give you all the things a human could give you."

"Oh, Cas, last night, you gave me something no human ever could. You let me see my brother again and you let me see him smiling. I'm glad you're not human and I'm glad you can feel love as if you were."

"I can't. Angels can't come close to the intensity of human emotion." he said, then he realised how cold and brutal that sounded. "I love you as much as an angel can love and I wish I were able to love you more."

"Unlike the rest of the flying monkeys, you are more than human, not less." she said.

He smiled. "Michael would hate to hear you call them ... us ... that."

"Them." she said, "You're not one of them. Bobby calls them that."

"He has a lot of fine qualities." said Cas.

"He does." she said. 


	71. Chapter 71

Dean became increasingly restless as morning approached. Hiding in his room seemed shameful and stupid, but venturing out to face the people he had failed ... He corrected that quickly to those who had suffered Michael's atrocities in the past. It felt too daunting, at least for now. 

Normally, he would escape such problems by finding some excuse to take off in the Impala for a while, but under the present circumstances, that could cause panic. He was already seen as unstable and he knew he couldn't be the only one who saw a serious risk of Michael returning to his abandoned vessel - a vessel which had already proved unable to fight him off.

Fight and flight were both off the table. That left freeze as an option, huddle in place until things got easier. Though really, when did things ever get easier?

He needed air. He needed to clear his head. When Sam returned with his breakfast, he wanted him to notice an improvement. He decided to go out on top of the bunker, to the trees where Cas so often found a little peace for his contemplations.

Dean could be very unobtrusive when he chose. He knew every corridor in the bunker and where to duck out of sight when he didn't want to be seen. Nobody saw him slip out. He wasn't sure that nobody heard the heavy door open and close, but as long as they neither followed him nor called him back all was well.

He could see why Cas loved the trees on top of the bunker. It was a nice, secluded place, frequented only by a few and they rarely coincided unless they went looking for each other. Jack knew to go there if he couldn't find Cas in the bunker and sometimes, he went there himself, to ponder whatever nephilim pondered.

He sat on a raised patch of earth which was supported by the roots of two trees. The landscape around was still dark and peaceful. He wished his mind could be so calm. Out there, somewhere, Michael was pursuing his plans and Dean, despite having shared a body with him, had no idea what those plans might be, but only that the archangel hated this world and its denizens as much as he had hated the alternative Earth.

Michael wanted to lay this world to waste and he had achieved such global destruction before. Michael would look out across the land and see only the flaws and failures, sins and errors and he would want to cleanse it all, watch it die.

Dean was not blind to the flaws. He saw the weak nature of his species. He saw the weakness in himself and despised it more than even Michael could. He saw how often people took the easy way, not the right one, but he saw other things too. He saw the people who could have made life easier for themselves by cheating their way through, who chose to be honest and hungry instead. He saw mothers sacrificing everything for their kids and families with nothing but love, who somehow made a good life for themselves with just that.

He saw humanity, the good and the bad. With no illusions, because he had never had the luxury of acquiring any, he looked on the best and the worst and he knew why righteous Michael wanted to obliterate this fallen race and he also knew that he would give his last breath to save them, even the bad ones, because the worst of them had every possibility of change.

His loyalty to his species surprised him. His love for them was overwhelming. His life's purpose had always been to protect Sam and he wasn't sure at what point it had also become about protecting the rest of humanity. All he knew was that every single human being on the planet felt like his personal responsibility and he couldn't remember a time when they hadn't. He had the devotion of a hero, but not the strength.

And that was the tragedy. He could not hope to save them. His might even be the hands that destroyed them, if Michael reclaimed his vessel. It would be almost impossible to destroy his occupied vessel. It might be possible to deny him the vessel by destroying it, but with Michael's powers of resurrection, ordinary destruction would result only in Dean's death and would not necessarily stop Michael. Cold, hard logic dictated that such a move would be stupid, handing over his body with no soul in it to oppose him.

He told himself he would have done it, otherwise, but he wasn't sure it was true. Considering how little he valued his life, the instinct to hold onto it was surprisingly strong.

Whatever the temptations or the strategic advantages to self-sacrifice in its most literal sense, one thing would always argue strongly against it. Sam still needed him. 

He allowed himself a smirk at that piece of arrogant nonsense. How, exactly, did Sam need him? Sam was stronger than he was, cleverer than he was, wiser than he was and Sam was incorruptible.

Yet Sam had felt the same feelings he was dealing with now. In fact, it sounded as if Sam felt he would never not feel those things. Maybe that was why Dean still felt needed. Maybe their confession of those feelings made it easier for both of them. It certainly helped him to understand that the same shameful feelings had troubled Sam, in whom the shame could never be justified. Hearing Sam say that there had been aspects of his possession by Lucifer that had felt almost good had been like a first drink of cool water in the searing desert of self-blame. Dean had been afraid to speak the words, his oldest and deepest fear that his brother would back away, horrified and think himself a fool ever to have believed in Dean.

But Sam had said what he was thinking. Sam must have had the same fear, to carry that thought unspoken for so long. Telling Dean must have taken every bit of strength and courage he had, but he had made himself do it, knowing that Dean needed to know, offering his own pain because it might help Dean to heal. Dean knew he could never repay that and he also knew that Sam wanted nothing in return. He never had.

Sam had never said so much about the Lucifer thing. That it still bothered him was obvious every time he flinched at the name. Of course it bothered him. Dean knew that he would never fully recover from Michael's presence and that had been brief and easy compared with all that time in the cage.

Sam felt contaminated and so did he, but he was accustomed to it and he deserved it more than Sam. A young man had died so he could live. His father had given his soul for him. He had failed to save his mother. Worse, he had failed to try. And Sarah said he'd never had a chance to and intellectually, he knew she was right. He had been a kid. He had been four years old and terrified. Still, he had failed every member of his family except Sam and that was a generous assessment. 

Worse, he was now a burden to Sam and their mother and Other Bobby and Cas and Jack and Jules. Sam, in particular, did not need him being damaged around the place. Sam needed a right hand he could trust and although Dean's own skewed instincts said they could not rely on any angel, Cas seemed to be that right hand. Quite a blend of negative feelings sprang from that: guilt, jealousy, frustration that he could not be what Sam needed him to be at the time he needed it most. Every member except Sam and now Sam too.

He heard someone walking slowly behind him. The step sounded familiar and he knew it was Cas mostly by how alert he suddenly became. He stood and turned, trying not to look as if he were preparing for a fight.

Cas raised his hands. "I'm sorry." he said, "I didn't know you were up here. I'll go back." So considerate of his loathing and suspicion, when Dean despised himself for both.

"No." he said, "It's okay, Cas. I'm between bouts of crazy. Come over here. Sit and talk a while."

"You're sure?" said Cas.

"I'm sure." he said, knowing he didn't seem that sure of anything and with good reason. 


	72. Chapter 72

It felt almost like old times, sitting with Cas atop the bunker before dawn. Almost. Dean was aware without any mental link that they shared the same fear, that his easily triggered paranoia would be set off in some way and they would end up enemies once more.

That couldn't be allowed to happen. "If I say something dumb or mean or unfair, punch me." he said.

"That sounds less than helpful." said Cas, "Logically ... "

"And in what sense do you think logic applies to me, these days?"

Cas smiled. "Good point."

"Yes."

"Because you are pretty irrational at times."

"You noticed."

"And you really hate me ... my kind, anyway."

"Part of me does. The twisted part."

"Well, I never liked that part much."

"Me neither." said Dean, "Hey, we're agreeing on stuff!"

"We are."

"We're agreeing on how crap I am, but it's a start."

"Not you," said Cas, "Just the part Michael left scarred."

"And scared."

"Still sacred." said Cas.

"Nothing's sacred, these days."

"Family, friendship ... "

"I betrayed you all." said Dean. It hurt to say it, but it wasn't as if Cas didn't know.

"You didn't. You never have."

"Don't defend me, or we will fight." said Dean.

"How about a deal?"

"Yeah, 'cause they never go bad."

"I won't defend you if you stop accusing yourself." said Cas.

Dean smiled at him. "You are far too good a friend for this broken fraud of a man."

"If you say things like that, I have to argue. Do we have a deal?"

"Okay. We have a deal. I don't want to argue with you."

"Good." said Cas, "So, how are you feeling?"

"I've felt better, but I don't want to stab my best friend in the throat with an angel blade, so I feel things are okay for now."

"Your best friend thanks you. I also don't want you to stab me in the throat with an angel blade."

"Well, we are just agreeing on everything tonight." said Dean, smiling. He tirned to look at Cas again. "So, did you find out what was going on with Jules?"

"Yes. Everything's fine now."

"And you don't feel like elaborating on that?"

"No."

"No."

"It's a private matter."

"Did you have sex?"

"Dean!"

"I'm gonna take that as a no. So how private can it be?"

"It's private."

"Bullcrap. You'd tell Sam."

"I have no intention of telling Sam."

"You don't trust me. And that's understandable. I don't trust you either, but at least be honest about it."

"Hey, Jerk!" said Cas and the word coming from him was enough to get Dean's full attention. Cas went on, "Listen and understand. This is not about trust. Well, actually, it is. A confidence is involved. The information is not mine to impart. I won't tell you because I can't, because I promised. Not everything is about you and not every piece of information belongs to you by right."

Dean understood and he believed him. He had no right to insist on full disclosure of everything in Cas's life, much less every private discussion he had with Jules. His paranoia, tangled up with a hint of jealousy, made him a dick sometimes. "Sorry." he said.

"Sorry I called you a jerk."

"On this occasion, justified."

"It's bad timing, I know. Everything I withhold reinforces your suspicions and fears."

"I shouldn't still have them. I keep thinking I'm getting past them, then ... but I miss the days when we could talk about anything."

"When?" said Cas in obvious surprise.

"When we had the mind link." said Dean.

"You mean when we had no choice but to talk about anything, because otherwise it said itself in our minds?"

"Same thing."

"Not at all." said Cas.

"Things used to be better between us."

"Yes."

"And now ... I get the Jules thing and I don't want you to betray a confidence, but it gets to me because I know you can't talk to me like you used to."

"I'll admit, you're not easy to talk to right now, but that's temporary."

"You think so?"

"There's a lot I can't say to you. There are times I'm afraid to talk to you at all. The hatred in your eyes ... "

"It's not real. It's not me." said Dean, furious with himself that he couldn't hide it better.

"Of course not, but it's there and I don't want to push you to the point where you can't fight it anymore. For your sake and mine, I have to avoid putting you under pressure. The damage Michael did ... "

"So I'm damaged. I've always been damaged."

"Dean, stop. It wasn't a criticism."

"It felt like one." said Dean.

"Everything does, to you." Cas smiled slightly. "Including that."

"I'm not unaware of my faults." said Dean.

"That may be the understatement of the century."

"I'm hard to talk to. Quick to anger, slow to forgive. There are good reasons why Sam is the one people like."

Cas aid nothing, but regarded him with a look of mild curiosity.

"Opinion?" said Dean.

"None that I've noticed." said Cas.

"Even at my best, I'm hard to like."

"Even your enemies end up liking you." said Cas.

"And now I'm this ... " He looked out across the fields. Many words suggested themselves, but he had a feeling that Cas would argue with most of them. "I wouldn't blame you if you walked away. Pretty much everyone else does."

"I think that's what Sarah calls an inaccurate core belief. You formed it in childhood and never checked the statistics. People don't leave you, Dean. They follow you to Hell and back. There's a reason for that."

"Stupidity."

"No, not that." said Cas.

"There are better people to follow and better places to follow them to."

"You're a better leader than God, Dean."

Dean smiled. "Only because God is even more useless than I am."

"Are you really going to make me argue with you?"

Dean shrugged. "One way or another, that's how this is going to end."

"This friendship, or this conversation?"

"Dealer's choice."

Cas stood and walked a few yards away.

"Cas, I'm sorry." said Dean.

"I know you can't help it. I know the thoughts are not yours."

"I never should have said it anyway. I didn't want to say it."

"Or think it or feel it. Nevertheless ... " In the dim light, his face was hidden, his expression unclear. Dean knew that angelic eyes could easily make out every detail of his.

"You don't deserve this ... any of it." he said.

"Neither do you." said Cas, "And if it takes me the rest of eternity, I will make you understand that!"

"You really think you can stand to be around me that long?" said Dean. His mortality made the ending much earlier than that, even if he were lucky enough to grow old.

"Does it mean anything to you that, time after time, whenever I had to choose between you and Heaven, I chose you? And Heaven was the default."

"You wanna know what that means?" said Dean, "It means I screwed you over, every single time. I took you out of certainty and security and I made you a fugitive, a traitor, Heavens most wanted ... or least wanted, whatever. I can never give back what I took from you. I will never even understand exactly what it was I took from you. Doesn't it bother you that I never cared?"

"All you ever took from me was my chains."

"Chains of gold and all I gave you in return was ... "

"A home, a family, a life, a purpose." said Cas, coming back to sit beside him.

"Frickin' angels! You'd follow a cat and think it was your saviour."

"Frickin' saviours!" said Cas, "You test my devotion to its limits."

"It has limits?" said Dean.

"Clearly not." said Cas.

"If you had any sense ... " Dean began.

"Yes, but I'm a dumbass, so you're stuck with me, Jerk."


	73. Chapter 73

The sky was becoming a little lighter and Dean felt his heart sink at the thought of another ay of dodging all the others and making Sam responsible for him and everything else. "I know why Michael let me go." he said.

"Why?" said Cas, one eyebrow expressing some doubt.

"It's brilliant and efficient and cold."

"That does sound like Michael." Cas admitted.

"Clearly, he had no further use for this vessel."

"Stop calling yourself that."

"What else am I supposed to call it? It was the vessel he wanted. I was just a passenger. Why do you care what I call it? It's how you all see us, right?"

"Wrong. And don't consider me one of his kind."

No, I don't. I won't. May I get back to my theory?"

"Okay, but all your other recent theories have been dumb."

"I thought you were trying not to argue."

"Not arguing, just warning you I might have to." said Cas, "Please, proceed to tell me what your paranoia has thrown up this time so I can decide how to address it."

"It's not paranoia."

"Does it include any declaration of your corruption or cowardice?"

"None at all." said Dean, "And you keep saying I'm neither corrupt nor cowardly."

"You're not. That's my point."

"This is why he did it." said Dean, "Out there, lost. I was a unifying force. You all wanted me back and you were working together to achieve that. The moment I got back here, weak and ... well, let's say wounded ... "

"Let's say pretty amazing for a former vessel."

"Even if he's gone for good, I can't be trusted. You said yourself, I'm irrational. And of course, we don't know he's gone for good. You all regard me with distrust. You all argue with me and about me ... "

"We don't."

"You're arguing now."

"I'm not." Cas looked confused. "Well. I am, but ... "

"Just don't bother, Cas. You're out of your depth."

"Agreed, but you're drowning."

Dean was about to disagree, but instead, he gave a single nod. "As long as I am in this bunker ... "

"Michael wants you to think that way. He wants you alone, unprotected."

"Not one person here can protect me if he comes back. You know that."

"Jack's grace could return tomorrow."

"It won't. It'll take months to years." said Dean.

"Maybe no one person can help you, but all of us together? That's an army, Dean. And an army led by Sam. Would you bet against them in any other circumstances?"

"Every life in the bunker is at risk if I am here."

"Then go to the farm. Probably a good idea anyway. A warm parlour, some good home-cooking ... "

"And Sarah." said Dean, "Which is why you really want me to go there. You think she can fix me."

"No, I don't, but I think while you're fixing yourself, it wouldn't hurt to have her unconditional love and support and a voice to argue with your self-loathing that you won't respond to with, 'Shut up. Dumbass!'"

"I don't do that all the time." said Dean, hoping he didn't.

"No, you take breaks for lunch and dinner."

"Well, I don't mean it."

"Which part? Shut up or dumbass?"

"Any of it. The silence is the worst part."

"Silence?"

"Being alone in my room and alone in my head. Hearing my own thoughts, endlessly running through the same list. Thinking of all the ways I've failed everyone."

"Not me." said Cas.

"You most of all. I promised you I would never say yes to Michael."

"We've discussed that. You had no choice."

"I still broke my promise. I think I've broken every promise |I ever made you."

"I make it fewer than one in twenty. And you always have a good reason."

"Then why are you keeping count?"

"I count everything. I can't help it."

"Everything that ever went wrong in your life was my fault."

"Dean, some of it happened before your first biped ancestors evolved." Cas smiled. "Not that this will in any way stop you blaming yourself."

"Nobody else will blame me for anything, even the stuff I did right in front of them. It's like you're all scared I'm gonna shatter. So you smile and lie and say none of it's on me, but its my fingerprints everywhere."

"Guilt is a problem for me, too." said Cas.

"I know, but it's different. You blame yourself for stuff that was never your fault."

"Mostly, tonight, I blame myself for not knowing what to say, how to make you understand how completely and utterly wrong you are about all of this."

"You could call me a dumbass."

"I like to think I'm a little more sophisticated than that." said Cas.

Dean smiled. "Yeah, I bet you do. Superior frickin' angel."

When Cas spoke again, he sounded very serious. All trace of humour was gone. "I know you'll say no and that's fine, but I need you to know the offer is here, if you ever need or want to say yes."

"Be careful what you offer me. I'm a user and a taker and I will take advantage of anyone."

"Liar."

"That too." said Dean, as seriously as Cas.

"I think we could reopen the link pretty much at will. Sam and I managed to form one in a moment. With you, it will be harder, because your fear of angels will kick in and you may lash out, but anytime you want to try, I will be ready."

Dean shook his head. "I can't control any of the mess inside here. Even if I could trust you .. and right now, I definitely can't, I wouldn't unleash this on my worst enemy."

"Aren't I your worst enemy?" said Cas.

"Michael, for now. You're about Number Six." He tried to laugh and make it a joke, but it felt too close to the truth.

"Whatever you have in there, I can handle it." said Cas, "But if you're not ready, it's okay. I just want you to remember, it's an option and it always will be. I know it seems like a bad idea to you, but how long would all the suspicion and fear last if we were at Bobby's, with nothing hidden?"

"Remember all the locked doors? Being around them could just make it worse."

"If you need those doors open ... "

"No." said Dean, "You're making yourself vulnerable enough just by sitting here."

"What do you imagine you can do to me? You gave your angel blade and bullets to Sam."

"It's never taken more than words to tear you apart." said Dean, "I know you remember them all. I also remember all the ones I knew hurt you. For the others, I am truly sorry too."

"Why are you still trying to protect me?" said Cas.

"I don't know. Habit? Some sense of basic decency? Knowing it's the good guy thing to do?"

"Or maybe you care about me a lot more than you think."

"I owe you a lot."

"Never say that. You owe me nothing."

"I'm confused about everything, but every thought in my head is against reopening the mind link. It's true, I don't trust you, but I also don't want you caught up in this stuff in my head. And as you said, I could lash out, defending myself from an attack that isn't happening. So I am saying no, but not just out of fear."

"No." said Cas, "I thought that would be the case. The offer still stands. And I meant what I said about the doors."

"I don't think you'd be able to open them. They're locked for a reason." said Dean.

"I'd give it my best shot."

"You always do." Dean looked at his watch. "I'd better go. Sam'll be bringing me breakfast soon. There's another one I take advantage of. I am a truly bad person, my friend."

"And those two words prove you a liar many times over."

Dean stood. "We'll get through this, somehow. Maybe, one day, we will get the link back and maybe you'll regret that and maybe you won't, but making the offer now, when I'm such a toxic ... Well, that's above and beyond, Cas."

"I don't see anything toxic," said Cas, "I just see a good friend."

"You poor, dumb, blind, stupid angel."

"If you need me, for anything, you know where to find me."

Dean started to walk away, then turned and said, "Cas ... "

"I know. You didn't mean any of that."

"Just edit out all the bad stuff, please."

"Say what you like about me. I'm old and strong and I can take it. Just go easy on my friend. He's not the monster you mistake him for. He's just not."

Dean nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He was glad of the darkness which let him pretend he was hidden from scrutiny, but he knew Cas's clear eyes saw the tears in his.


	74. Chapter 74

Sam knocked lightly on Dean's door and went in. Dean was lying on the bed, but quickly sat up. "Hey." he said.

"Hey." said Sam, "I brought you bacon and coffee. I was discreet. Nobody knows. Please tell me you got some sleep."

Dean took the mug and plate. "Yeah, I got some. Then I went out for a while."

"Out where?" said Sam. The Impala had not left the bunker, so it could not have been far, but the thought of Dean wandering off alone troubled him.

"Only on top of the bunker. I get why Cas likes to go there. It's a good place to think." He ate a piece of bacon and said, "Great bacon! Thanks."

"You're welcome. So, do I need to worry about what you were thinking about out there?"

Dean smiled. "No, but you're gonna, aren't you? It's so weird, after all these years."

"What are you talking about?" said Sam. He didn't like the wistful look on Dean's face and talk of the past was rarely happy talk from Dean.

"When you left us for Stanford, I thought you were turning your back on me forever."

"I never would have done that, Dean."

"No, you wouldn't. I was an idiot to think you could. Because whatever has happened, whatever dumb mistakes I made, you have always cared about me and I know how much that has overcomplicated your life."

Sam hated hearing him talk like that, as if he were a burden Sam had to endure or a responsibility no sane person would want. "We're brothers." he said.

"Yes we are!" said Dean, "And I won the sibling lottery when you were born. I know you don't like me saying this stuff and I don't like saying it either, but I have to, because I want you to know that I see all the things you've done for me over the years. I see them and I am so thankful."

"Stack up what I did for you and what you did for me and they won't even be close."

"I agree."

He agreed alright, just not in the right direction. He was about to reply when Dean suddenly put his coffee on the nightstand and said, "Sam, we need to talk."

"So talk." said Sam, "There's nowhere I have to be."

"Not that kind of talk."

"Any kind of talk is fine. What's on your mind?" said Sam, grabbing the chair from by the desk and moving it to Dean's side of the bed before sitting down.

"I need you thinking like a leader, Sam, not like my brother."

"Well, I am your brother, so that may be a problem." said Sam, trying to keep his voice calm and neutral as his thoughts offered various suggestions of why Dean might want him not to care.

"We need a strategy. We need to be ready."

"For Michael?"

"Yes."

"It's a little hard to form a strategy when we don't have a snowball's chance in Hell of killing him."

"That does seem to be the biggest issue." said Dean.

"For now, our strategy is to keep trying to find a strategy."

"And what do you have in place for restraining him if he retakes his vessel?"

"His vessel?"

"Me, Sam, me."

"Dean, is this what you were thinking about outside?"

"No." said Dean.

"Well, it shouldn't be what you're thinking about now."

"It should be the only thing either of us is thinking about now."

Sam could feel his brother's attention drifting. If they weren't discussing how to undo what he saw as his failure, he wasn't interested, but the conversation was flavoured too heavily with his guilt and self-destructive urges and Sam felt that any discussion on the subject now would end with him asking Sam to kill him - or at least to find a way to do so.

"When he comes back, nobody is safe." said Dean, "He hates all of you."

"Well, all of us hate him." said Sam. His number one reason for hating him was sitting in front of him. Dean had been deep in despair and regret long before Michael had taken over, but now he hated himself even more and the use of "when" and not "if" had not been accidental.

"The first time you see a sign of him taking control, you have to forget I was ever your brother. I can't live as his vessel again. You'd be doing me a favour."

"Dean ... "

"For Mom, for Jack, for Bobby, you have to stop him. I've proved that I can't."

"No. We'll find a way to fight him, but I'm not about to kill you. Besides, he'll just restore the body, possibly without you in it. If I'm gonna fight Michael, I want you there, fighting with me."

"With Michael in control, I can't fight. That's the whole problem. That's why we need ... "

"We need you to let this go." said Sam, "You're not able to think clearly about this and letting your mind constantly track back to it is doing nothing to help anyone."

"We can't just ... "

"Do you trust me?" said Sam, a little afraid of the possible answer.

"I think we need ... "

"Simple question. Do you trust me?"

"You are the only person I trust." said Dean.

"Then trust me. Let me worry about strategy. I promise, if I need your input, I'll ask for it, but for now, I need you to focus on your own needs and on taking proper care of yourself, because I am no use as a leader if all I can do is think about what new and inventive way you've found to hurl yourself off a cliff for the greater good."

"The last thing I wanna do is worry you or make anything harder than it already has to be."

"Good, then we're agreed. You trust me. You can trust me, Dean."

"I know I can. I do." Dean picked up his coffee again and took a long, slow drink of it. "I trust you." he said at last, "It's just that I feel if I'm not actively working against Michael, I'm helping him."

"Best way to work against Michael is to get your strength back and that means taking a short and deserved break from fighting alone against the universe and letting your underused brother get some of the action and maybe prove he's as good as you are. Or is that what scares you?" Ending on a joke tended to be a good idea with Dean. It defused a lot of potential arguments and Sam didn't want him to argue this time.

Dean was quiet for a long time. He ate a little bacon, sipped some coffee and neither argued nor aquiesced. Eventually, he said, "I met Cas outside."

"Yeah? How did that go?"

"We didn't fight. Actually, we talked for quite a while."

"Sounds promising." said Sam.

"He offered to reopen the link."

"Probably a little premature."

"He's trying too hard. He knows how bad it was in here before Michael and now he wants to witness the mess Michael left behind?"

"Are you saying you doubt his motives?"

"No, he's sincere enough. I doubt his sanity."

"Well, that's an improvement." said Sam. Dean was doing a great job of pushing the paranoia away and believing in Cas again.

"He said he and Jules are okay, but he won't tell me what the problem was. It's something personal for her."

"Then that's perfectly reasonable." said Sam.

"Of course it is. I'm fine with it. Of the many things we can't talk about, that's the one he has an excuse for."

"If there's anything he's not saying, I'm sure there's an equally good reason for it."

"Yeah, he doesn't trust me."

"Dean, you just said you think he's sincere."

"I do." said Dean. He put the mug and plate on the nightstand. "He called me irrational. I can't argue with that. I know I'm not doing well."

"You're doing great. You just need to remember that the negative stuff is not real."

"The negative stuff is always real." said Dean.

"Yeah, I know, but this time it isn't."

"I know I asked you, but if dealing with me ever becomes ... "

"Dean, shut up. I'm not ditching you, not now, not ever. Now, tell me what you and Cas talked about."


	75. Chapter 75

When he considered the hour appropriate, Cas went to a quiet archive room and called Sarah. "I wondered if one of you would call today." she said.

"I thought about going to you, but both Dean and Jules might read things into that which aren't there. I need to be here."

"Which should we discuss first, Dean or Jules?"

"Well, I can't really discuss Jules. I can only say that she and I shared a time of great openness and trust. She confided in me about things we have never talked about before."

"That sounds very good, Castiel."

"It was. I'd forgotten what it feels like to be trusted. Dean's suspicion .... it's not his fault, I know, but it still hurts like a deliberate attack. Sometimes, I feel as if he sees no distinction between me and that ... and Michael."

"I know that he does but I know that doesn't help you believe it."

"I am making it sound worse than it is." he said, "This morning, before it was light, I found Dean in the trees on top of the bunker. I know it was an effort for him, but he managed to talk to me as a friend."

"That's how he wants to be all the time."

"It felt good, Sarah, so good. For me, at that moment, everything was good." 

"But not now?"

"There's still so much anger in him, an unquenchable rage, welling up constantly. For now, it's not aimed at me and I'm grateful, but that just means he's turning it all inward. He blames himself for everything and I know that isn't new, but the degree of his anger is. It scares me."

"That he's not turning it all on you is one less thing for him to feel guilty about."

"Believe me, there is no lack of guilt. Nothing seems to lessen it. Nothing seems to convince him that he is not corrupt and weak and ... and there's another thing that terrifies me."

"What is it, my dear?" said Sarah.

"The way he refers to himself now. I'm accustomed to most of the vile things he calls himself, most of the faults he can recite without thinking - most of which have never applied to him, but he called himself 'this vessel' like he no longer exists and he talks as if he no longer wants to."

"I wish I could say you have nothing to worry about, but those are grounds for concern."

"I want to ask Sam to return his angel blade to him."

"If he's likely to harm himself, is that wise?"

"Dean has an armoury at his disposal. If he wants to harm himself, he won't have a problem finding a weapon. With an angel blade, he might lash out at me, direct some of that anger at me, hopefully releasing it and relieving the pressure."

"You were just telling me how good it felt not to be the object of his anger." said Sarah. Her voice held so much love for him and for Dean. It was soothing to hear her speak and to know that she would listen with that same love.

"Yes, but that's me being selfish. I want him not to hate me. It's torture when he does, but he needs someone to hate and blame and perhaps punish that isn't him. He'll forgive me, in time. He can forgive everyone but himself."

"Over the years, he's had no shortage of people to hate. Has hating them ever diminshed the anger he feels for himself?"

"If you can think of anything that would, I'm eager to hear it." he said.

"Hatred distracts, but it can never heal."

"True." said Cas.

"All the progress he has made in ridding himself of the residue of Michael's spite has been made through his love of you and Sam."

"I thought it was more his hatred of Michael."

"No, not really. That can even be a problem. When he loses himself in the hatred, he gets angry and with Michael beyond his reach, it's easiest to turn it all on himself. The problem is, that's a very old and deeply ingrained pattern. It's so familiar to him it feels natural and instinctive."

"Yes, whenever he has some poison in his mind and nothing to kill, he swallows it." said Cas.

"We've talked a lot about his old and dangerous patterns of reaction, so he knows in his mind that it's a bad idea and he tries to move away from it, but just as you want to run whenever you feel out of your depth emotionally, Dean responds by punishing himself."

Cas knew that. He had seen it too many times, watching a moment of anger with nowhere to go turn into another reason for Dean to hate himself, another way to hurt himself. 

During the far too few days when they had used the mind link, Dean had met two younger versions of himself. Cas remembered the blameless child, first of the versions of Dean to be a victim of demonic malice. His instinct had been to comfort and reassure the little boy, but Dean's had been to withdraw from him and hold him in contempt. Yet if a little Sam had come into that room, he would have been loving and kind.

"If these are lifelong patterns," he said, "Can we ever hope to see him change them?"

"For how many millions of years did you feel no compassion or empathy for individuals, Castiel?"

"Too many." he conceded.

"And here you are, a gentle father to a child that gets his compassion from you and a devoted brother to two men whose lives and happiness mean more to you than any commandment from Heaven."

"I still feel limited in that respect."

"Because, like Dean, you hold yourself to impossible standards. Jules sees the love in you and so do I. I wish I could hug you, my dear. I feel you very much need a hug."

He closed his eyes, imagining one of her warm, motherly hugs. When he opened his eyes again, he said, "Your faithful friendship has always been a blessing to me."

"And yours to me, Castiel. I will always be glad that it was my bee you followed." There was a moment of peaceful silence and then she said, "Dean can change. He is changing. He needs our encouragement and our patience."

Cas thought about the change in Dean as he had hugged his younger self, the look of pity and regret on his face, the apology for being so hard on the kid. That was the apology that mattered to Cas, that moment when he had finally been able to extend a little of the boundless compassion he had for Cas and Sam to include the little boy he had been.

He remembered too the teenage Dean, that time, the younger self reaching out to the older, offering forgiveness and validation. He wondered when Dean had lost that capacity to see good in himself and whether they could ever foster that in him again.

"Are you still there, Castiel?" said Sarah.

"If we save the world and lose Dean Winchester, we have failed utterly." he said.

"Yes, we have." she agreed, "And we don't fail, do we?"

"I fail all the time." he said sadly.

"Well, I don't and I will not be failing Dean or you."

"I should go." he said, "I appreciate your constant commitment to all of us."

"Do you feel better for having talked with me?"

"Always." he said.

"We're walking him home, Castiel and it's a long walk for him. Sometimes, he'll stumble. Sometimes, he'll run on ahead a little. Sometimes he'll be confused about the way. All we have to do is stick with him through all of it. We will all make it home."

"You make me believe it." he said.

"That's what friends are for." she said.


	76. Chapter 76

Dean had told Sam how things had gone with Cas and Sam had seemed pleased by it, so he was starting to feel better about it himself. Sam was the clear-headed one for now and Sam loved Cas enough to tell Dean if he had handled it badly.

Being honest with Sam felt right. He'd often been too afraid to drop the walls, but things had been so bad, he felt he had no choice and now that he had taken the risk, it didn't feel like a disaster. Sam listened and nodded and occasionally smiled and Dean felt something he never usually felt or expected to feel. He felt safe.

There were no lies to keep track of, no secrets hidden away to sneak out later and mess things up. He was talking to his brother and finding only acceptance and understanding.

It still felt self-indulgent, bordering on selfish, when Sam had so many others to worry about. He felt he had to offer Sam another chance to leave, if there were other things he needed to do. 

"Sam," he said, "If you need to ... "

"I don't." said Sam, "Everyone and everything out there can manage without me for now."

Dean nodded. "I never want to be a burden."

"I know." said Sam, smiling, "That's why I so often get the urge to punch you. You don't wanna be a burden, so you make it as hard as possible for me to stick around you and it never enters your head that maybe taking care of my brother is as important to me as it is for you to take care of yours."

"But what if I'm not fixable?"

"When did you ever care if I was? Dean, you stood on the battlefield with me after I'd lost to Satan."

"You didn't lose."

"I'd lost until you got there. Win or lose, with or without hope, I'm here for you and I always will be. I'll never give up on you, Dean. I don't know how. See, I had this brother, growing up, who never once gave up on me."

"I know the type."

"You know the best compliment I ever got? Bobby said I was just like you. There's no higher praise than that. It's all I ever wanted, to match up to you."

"You passed me a long time ago. Now I wish I could be like you. Maybe what broke in me can't be mended."

"We all have our broken bits, the pieces that rattle when we're shook. There's more to you than that. There's something in you that no-one can break. They've all tried and they just can't."

"I wish I could believe in me like you do." said Dean.

"So do I, but until you can, I'll do it for both of us." Sam watched him gravely for a while and then said, "I know the weight on you, Dean. Well, no, maybe I don't, but I know that anyone else would be dust in the wind."

"Good song." said Dean.

"I'm serious. How are you still like this?"

"Like what? I barely function. I'm skulking away here in my room. Sammy, I'm scared to walk out that door during daylight hours."

"You're here, in the bunker, not halfway across the country trying to find a fake name I won't look for. You're talking to me ... and I mean really talking. You even managed to talk to Cas. Michael has no power over you."

"I wish that were true. All of this is Michael."

"No. It isn't."

Dean stretched out on the bed, looking at the ceiling. "Staying in here ... I know it makes me a chicken, but it feels safe."

"That's good. You need safe."

"I shouldn't. I'm not a kid."

"No, you never were, but you're human and you've been through some stuff and if you need to catch your breath before rejoining the other hunters, that's okay."

"When did you ever take a day off?"

"I seem to remember taking a year off." said Sam.

Dean felt bad for reminding him of that. He had not intended to. "That was different." he said, anxious not to reopen that old wound for Sam. "I just hide here." he said.

"I've done my fair share of hiding and running and chickening out. Like I said, human. You know why I can go out there and mix with the off-worlders? Because they're my salvation. No matter how bad it gets, as long as I can support and protect them, I will never want to give up. When you were gone, they needed me and I needed them more."

"I don't feel like that about them." said Dean.

"I know, but you still do all you can for them."

"Don't get me wrong, I like them all, especially Jules. Jules is family. New Bobby is too and Charlie, though she's so not our Charlie. But they're your followers, not mine. You see your people, I just see a lot of eyes, watching me, waiting for me to screw up even more and deliver their enemy, fully armed, right to the bunker."

"Dean, you're a hero to them. You led them out of a dying world and gave them shelter."

"I think that was you."

"Well, maybe you do. They don't. The only person here who doesn't think the world of you is you."

"I know me better than they do."

"You don't know yourself better than I do." said Sam.

"Changing the subject ... "

"Of course." said Sam.

Dean smiled ruefully. "I told you. Chicken."

"I told you, human."

"Can we talk about Lucifer?"

"Whatever helps." said Sam, only the slight quaver in his voice showing how little he wanted to.

"When you said you felt like you'd never be free of his contamination ... Sam, you are free of it. There is nothing of Lucifer in you."

"Most of the time, that's how I feel, but I can never shake off that feeling completely. Maybe it makes no sense, but I think it will always be at the back of my mind."

"It makes perfect sense, to me, anyway. You're right, they make you feel completely invaded and corrupted. I guess it's weird to say an archangel ... well, Michael ... made me feel unclean, but for all that righteous certainty, he was evil. He took pleasure in destruction." Dean laughed.

"What?" said Sam.

"Like I never took pleasure in random violence. Maybe the stain was on my soul a long time ago."

"Lots of scars, no stains." said Sam.

"What if all the stuff I think is Michael is actually who I really am?"

"It's not. Who you really are is the man who went to Hell to save my life, who came out of Hell still human, still good. Even now, after that evil son of a bitch had you under his control, you're worrying about me and scared you can't protect the others. You think Michael ever cared about anyone else? You think he knows what love and loyalty are?"

"No angel does." said Dean.

"One does." said Sam, reminding him not to include Cas.

"Sorry." he said.

Sam smiled. "When you were seventeen, you and Dad came back from a hunt and you apologised for bleeding on my jacket."

"So? You remember the weirdest stuff, Sam."

"So you're allowed to bleed when you're wounded. Don't feel guilty for the stuff you can't help. Cas understands and so do I."

"You corrected me."

"Yeah, I also washed off the blood. Didn't blame you for either though, did I?"


	77. Chapter 77

Jules went to the kitchen for a beer and found Mary Winchester sitting at the table with her own beer and a bag of chips. "I know," said Mary, "Sam would not approve. Comfort food."

"Any particular reason you need it?" said Jules, grabbing a beer from the refrigerator and joining her friend at the table.

"The usual, worrying about my boys. Dean mostly, but not excluding Sam. I just wanna find them both and do whatever moms do when their kids are in pain." She smiled sadly and added, "Only, I don't know what that is. I only got four years as a mom and in all that time, the hardest thing I had to do was convince Dean to wear shoes."

"Was he as stubborn then as he is now?" said Jules.

"If anything, he's mellowed." said Mary, "In those days, I had to get clever. Told him, 'Daddy always wears shoes when he goes out.' Of course, then we had to get him a pair of boots just like Daddy's."

"Where are Dean and Sam?" said Jules.

"I don't know, but not around ... not visible. I hope they're together. I hope they're talking. All those healing, supportive, nurturing skills I never developed - they're all right there in Sam, an inheritance from John, maybe, or something he learned from Dean."

"You could be very nurturing yourself when we were under attack in my world. Sam does have the advantage over all of us in that nobody could ever know Dean like he does. He knows when to push and when to retreat. He knows all the stuff Dean isn't saying and can say it for him. And of course, Dean trusts him in a way he can't trust me or even you."

"Even me?" said Mary, "Especially me. All I've done is abandon him. The first time wasn't my fault. All the later times were."

"I know he feels the pain still, but I think he understands." said Jules, "It's pretty clear that he loves you and doesn't blame you for the past."

"Somehow, he forgave me, but I know he's afraid he'll lose me again. Sam will never leave him and he knows it. I'm not reliable. But he has started to open up to me a little."

"I think, considering all the disasters of the past, you and your sons have an amazing relationship."

Mary smiled. "They've both been great to me, tolerating my confusion and distance, giving me time to come to terms with all the changes."

"It was probably for the best that I never did the marriage thing or the kid thing. The apocalypse came and wiped out all the cute little families and we cynical, bitter, loner types all seemed to survive. The people who did have kids with them lived in constant fear of losing them. Being alone didn't seem terrible then."

"You're not alone now." said Mary.

"Honestly, I never felt less alone in my life. I know our relationship's a little weird and so is Cas, but I like weird. I never thought I'd meet someone who would care about me, accept me just as I am and make me feel safe. If I'd met a human like him back in my world, I might have been a wife and a mom and if I had, I would have fought like a lioness for my kids."

"You fight like that for everyone. There's a real Mama Bear spirit in you, Jules."

"I never saw myself as maternal, not even before the world got flipped on its ass."

"You're doing pretty well with Jack."

"I love Jack." said Jules.

"Do you wish you and Cas could ... "

"No, I don't." said Jules quickly, "Nephilim, you know. Not really a practical plan. It's not like you get to be around for your kid. Sorry!" she said, seeing the look on Mary's face, "It just feels different to go into it knowing you won't be there."

"It's okay." said Mary, "I just hate knowing how different their lives could have been."

"Yeah, I know, but if things had been different, your world would have ended like mine. What they went through was hard, but a lot of good came out of it."

I'm just so grateful to Amara that she gave me this chance to put some of it right. I can hug them. I can talk to them. I can let them know how much I've always loved them. But I wish I could take away those years when they felt alone."

"They always had each other. Their bond is incredible."

"It is, isn't it? I used to worry that Dean would be jealous of the new baby, but nobody can say he hasn't been a wonderful big brother and Sam loves Dean with all his heart. In all that went wrong, that one thing went so right. I wanted Dean to have a brother he could feel close to and grow up with. I wanted Sam to have someone to look up to and trust."

"Mission accomplished." said Jules.

"And now I guess this is my chance to show faith in them. Every instinct tells me I should be following Dean around, taking care of him, being a mom for once in my life, but it wouldn't help. He'd hate it. He'd retreat. He'd leave the bunker and that would leave him vulnerable."

"That's what I'm most afraid of, that he'll decide he can't be around Cas and run. Out there, he's Michael bait. He's so damn fatalistic at times, I'm not even sure he'd try to fight."

"He'd fight, for our sakes, but not with much hope."

"But I'm sure Michael left because he couldn't handle Dean. Dean has been kicking bigger things than Michael into the gutter for years. He has no idea how strong he really is." said Jules.

"He and Sam seem to know what they're doing. He's put so much trust in Sam to keep him sane and safe and he seems to be doing it well. I just need to shut up all the parts of my brain that keep screaming at me never to let Dean out of my sight again."

"If it helps at all, I don't think you're ever out of his heart. Sam says the memory of you was always Dean's strength. You only had four years to do it, but you put so much love in his heart that he could draw on it decades later when he felt alone and scared."

"He's so ashamed of his fear. Anyone would be afraid." said Mary.

"Cas is the same, a target for just about everyone in Heaven, Hell and all places between and he feels bad because he is afraid. I wish they understood, courage is the overcoming of fear, not the absence of it."

"If anyone else was afraid, they'd both tell them that." 

"Yes," said Jules, "The standards they have for themselves are way above anything they have for others."

"If he did leave ... "

"Sam and I would hunt him down. He's not gonna be alone against Michael. Same with Cas. They run, we chase, because whether they see it or not, they matter to us."


	78. Chapter 78

"I keep thinking what Dad would say, if he saw how badly I screwed everything up." said Dean.

"Compared to Dad?" said Sam. It had never entered his head to imagine that their father would be anything but proud of Dean, as he was.

"Don't, Sam." said Dean, who would have used his dying breath to defend their dad, even though he knew his faults as well as Sam did.

"You know I love Dad and I'm not saying a word against him," said Sam, "But if anyone would understand all of this ... He said yes to Michael too."

"To save Mom." said Dean, as if that were a world away from doing it for the sake of saving Jack and Sam.

Sam wondered whether it would be better to argue or to change the subject. His brittle brother seemed too fragile for one of their big fights, but silence might be taken as agreement. Choosing every word with care, he said, "Dad would be so proud of you, Dean. He'd be so proud that every choice you ever made, you made because it was the right thing to do, not because it was easy or safe."

"The right thing? Always? I'm not sure that claim stands much scrutiny."

"All I know is that you never deliberately picked the wrong thing or the easy thing. You did what you thought was right, even when you thought it would cost you everything. That's something to be proud of and if you won't be proud of it, just know that I am and Mom is and Dad would be too."

"You think he'd be proud of the way I'm treating Cas?" said Dean.

"Aren't you supposed to hate Cas? You do seem to be spending a lot of time caring how he feels."

"Are you avoiding the question?"

"If you really need an answer, I think he'd be blown away by the fact that, days after escaping from Michael, your main concern is whether you're hurting the feelings of an angel."

"Stop saying I escaped from Michael. Michael threw me away like an empty bottle."

"I don't believe that. I think he couldn't hold onto you. It was taking too much time and effort just keeping you down." said Sam.

"I wonder what Cas thinks about it ... I mean really thinks. He's so careful what he says, so scared of saying the wrong thing."

"We all are, because you're hearing stuff we never said or thought."

"He and I never stood a chance, did we? I won't say Michael was right, because ... no, but I suppose angels and humans were never intended to be friends."

"Since when do you care what God intended?" said Sam.

"I don't, but of all the humans on this planet, I'm, the last he should have trusted. Even my own family can't trust me."

"How is Cas not family?"

"You know what I mean."

"I know you don't know what you're saying. Everything's misfiring in there, Dean. Sarah would say that everything that is conscious seeks love and friendship and connection and that the angels could not evolve without involving themselves with humanity."

"I still think he could have chosen a better human."

"Yeah? I don't. And just because I don't want it to slip by unchallenged, we can trust you and we do. There is no-one in this world I trust more."

"Even now?" said Dean.

"Especially now."

Dean lay back on the bed and put his hands behind his head. "You mean it."

"Damn straight, I mean it."

Dean smiled. "I never thought, all those years ago, that I could avoid falling off that pedestal you put me on. I mean, I always tried, but I thought one day, you'd see through the act and know I wasn't what I was pretending to be. And I dreaded that day."

"You dumb, stupid idjit." said Sam.

"And now it's come, apparently." said Dean with a grin.

"I saw what you were from the start. Your act never fooled me for a second. I knew you were a superhero and I still do. I'll follow you until I am on a pyre."

"Well, that could be tough, since you're now the leader and have been for a while. We can't really follow each other. We'd be going around in circles."

"So what's new?" said Sam. He liked that Dean was beginning to seem more relaxed, more cheerful, more like Dean. Sarah said his salvation would be in joy and gentle laughter seemed like a good start.

"You know why I'm so quick to yell at you?"

"Yeah, because it freaks you out when we disagree, because you're scared one day one of us will say something we can't take back and the other one can't forgive."

"I hate when you read my mind like that."

"I didn't need any mindreading skills." said Sam, "I lose my temper with you for the same reason. I can't stand it when you look at me like I'm something terrible, because I've always been afraid that I'm not worthy and you'll see that."

"Only you see anything unworthy in you."

"We're two of a kind." said Sam.

"That's high praise for me, but a little insulting to you."

"Case in point." said Sam.

"Out of interest, how long do you intend to let me hide in here? Because I gotta tell you, I could happily hide in here forever."

"No you couldn't."

"You mean I shouldn't. and I agree. I'm so frickin' useless right now, but I don't know when I'll be able to walk out that door and join the others, so how long before you lose patience and drag me into the light?"

"You need to be in here. I get that. You can stay in here as long as you need to, because only you can judge that. I want you back in the fight, but more than that, I want you back to full strength and believing in yourself."

"So you'll just let me wallow?"

"If wallowing is what you need, yes, but if you like, I can promise to encourage you to get out there again when I think the time is right."

"I think I may need you to do that." said Dean.

"Fine. Not a problem. In the meantime, you should make a list. Anything you need, food, movies, anything. I can get it for you."

"What if we don't have it?"

"Maybe you've already been in here too long. There are these things called stores. You want it, I'll get it."

"Thanks." said Dean.

"I can do your laundry with mine and just pile the plates and cups you use inside the door. I'll deal with all of that. You'll only need to leave to use the bathroom. Make sure you shower. It's important."

"Do I smell that bad?"

"I mean for your mental health." said Sam.

"What about Mom?"

"Mom's cool. Bobby too. They know you need some space."

"Would it be weird if I asked you to send Cas here?"

"Doesn't matter if it seems weird. You know best what you need."

"I'm not sure that's true, but I need to make sure he knows I'm not avoiding him ... the whole universe including him, but not him specifically."

"Whatever you want." said Sam.

"Okay. I want you to go to the farm. Spend some time with Sarah. I worry about you carrying all this alone."

"Could you stop being my big brother for five minutes?"

"I don't think so. It's kinda hardwired into me."


	79. Chapter 79

Still wandering around the archives, Cas found Jack sitting at a desk, reading pages from a folder. "Something interesting?" he said.

"Very interesting." said Jack, "According to Sam's notes on the antichrist, Jesse Turner, he had immense power."

"Yes, he did."" said Cas, "Another of my stupid mistakes. I tried to kill him. Fortunately, he was too powerful and prevented it. I was stupid then. I think I was a monster, no compassion, no humanity."

"I can't believe you were ever like that."

"Even to think about what I was then makes me nauseous. He was a child, albeit a terrifyingly powerful one. He was an innocent, as you were and I also wanted to kill you, at first. It seems I learn slowly, if at all."

"I'm here." said Jack, "And I'm here only because you chose not to kill me or let me be killed. It says here that Jesse disappeared."

"Yes." said Cas.

"We need to find him. He could kill Michael for us. He'd be full grown now, right?"

"Even if he were interested in helping us ... and we cannot be sure that he would be, there's no way to find him. His powers hide him from everyone. We'd only become aware of him if he did something huge, like wipe out a continent. Even then, we may not recognise his part in it."

"So there is someone out there who could snap Michael like a dry twig and we can't recruit him?" said Jack.

"I'm afraid that's the case." said Cas, "It's an interesting thought, though, whether he might one day put his powers to some noble use. He was a good child. Sam was very impressed."

"Sam gives everyone a chance, a nephilim, an antichrist ... "

"A fallen angel who has let him down too many times." said Cas.

"Sam sees past everyone's assumptions about us, including our own." said Jack.

"Yes, he does." said Cas, happy to know how much Jack loved and respected Sam Winchester.

"Even now, when I have no useful powers, he makes me feel like I still matter."

"You matter to all of us."

"I mean in the big fight. He still talks as if I have a part to play."

"You don't feel that you do?" said Cas.

Jack suddenly smiled brightly and Cas wished he had not spent long enough around the Winchesters to see through the attempt at reassurance. "I know I do. I'm glad he knows it too." said Jack.

"Sam's a good man. He believes in us all. If we ever do meet Jesse again, we should let Sam do the talking."

"You think we will?" said Jack.

"I think anything is possible." said Cas.

"I didn't exist when you met him. Is it possible, at full power, I could find him?"

"Conceivably." said Cas.

"Do you have any idea where we would need to look?"

"With his abilities, he could be anywhere in time and space. It would be like looking for a needle in a ... well, a universe." 

"Which of us would you say is more powerful?" said Jack, "If I had full power, I mean." He made it sound like a purely academic question, not knowing the cold grip the very thought of it put around his father's heart.

"I'd rather not find out. In theory, you, but let's try to avoid any kind of direct challenge situation."

Again that smile, a concern for Cas's concern, the boundless compassion of a celestial with a human soul in sharp contrast to a total lack of interest in what might happen to him. Cas wished there were a glimmer of self-preservation in his precocious child.

"I have no intention of fighting him." said Jack, "But all that power, if he chose to use it ... And maybe we could convince him."

"Maybe we could." said Cas, "Just don't mention me. He may not entirely have forgiven me."

"He turned you back." said Jack.

"Yes, he did."

"You were doing what you thought was right."

"That's not an excuse." said Cas.

"Why are you always so hard on yourself? We've all done terrible things. I've done terrible things."

"No." said Cas.

Jack looked into his eyes. "You say you were a monster, but that's what Dean thought about me at first."

"Not just Dean and we were wrong."

"Yes. You're wrong about yourself, too." said Jack, "You made an honest mistake. I don't blame you that you wanted to kill me. I don't think Jesse Turner will either."

"Nevertheless, if you want his cooperation, he trusts Sam and Dean and has every reason not to trust me. I don't say these things to torture myself. My objection to being involved is strategic."

"The torture is coincidental?" said Jack.

"Precisely."

Sam put his head around the door. "Cas, I was looking for you. Dean wants to see you."

"He wants to?" said Cas.

"He asked me to send you to him. He needs a little time alone, but he wants to talk to you first."

"Sam, he can't be alone right now. You know what he's doing to himself. I thought he wanted you around."

"He still does." said Sam, "But he feels like he wants to stay in his room for a few days."

"Alone? Does that sound safe to you?"

"He says he's hiding." said Sam.

"From me?"

"No. Specifically not from you. That's what he wants to talk about."

"How is he? You've been with him all morning. Where do you think he is now, emotionally?"

"There's good news and bad. He's blaming himself for everything, talking like his existence puts us all at risk, struggling to believe he can ever break free of all this ... "

"Not hearing any good news?"

"The good news is he no longer seems to hate you and he's consciously trying to pull out of the downward spiral. He's just overwhelmed and he needs not to have to deal with everyone else in the bunker. I'm not saying we let him stay there alone forever, but for now, he thinks that's what he needs."

"Do you think he's right?"

"I think he's Dean. He knows what he needs and if we don't let him have his way, one day, the Impala will be gone and we won't have a clue where he is. I think this is for the best, for now. I have a plan for getting him out of there if we need to, but I say we give him some time."

"Fine. You know him a lot better than I ever can." said Cas.

"You both know him well." said Jack.

Cas smiled at him, then turned back to Sam "Any advice?" he said.

"Pick your words with care. Anything that can be heard as a criticism will be and he'll believe it."

"He's good at that."

"I don't think hes likely to turn on you today, he's back in control of his emotions, mostly, but remember that the angel stuff is still there, controlled and repressed and reasoned with, but still there."

"It would be hard to forget."

"But it is just that, Cas. Dean loves you as much as he ever did. If he says something or does something that makes it feel like he hates you, that isn't Dean."

"Thanks." said Cas, "And Sam, thanks for everything you're doing to hold us all together and to take care of Dean. I know I can't do much to help him right now. It helps a lot to know he has you."

"I'll do anything I can, for everyone." said Sam, "If you need to talk later, I'll be around."

"If you can spare the time now, Jack is interested in Jesse Turner." said Cas.

"The antichrist, Jesse Turner?" said Sam.

"I think he could be useful." said Jack.

"Finding him might be hard," said Sam, "But he certainly has potential."


	80. Chapter 80

Sitting on his bed, Dean barely heard Cas's tentative knock on his door. Cas came in and closed the door behind him, but stayed close to it, his height rendered less threatening with a deliberate slouching stance, his eyes downcast. Under other circumstances, it would have made Dean laugh, but there was nothing funny in the tension between them and Castiel's desperate attempt not to trigger Dean's paranoia.

"Sam said you wanted to see me." said Cas, his tone suggesting he didn't believe it.

"Yeah, thanks." said Dean, we need to talk." He immediately regretted his choice of words, needing and wanting to talk were very different things and he saw immediately that Cas had noted the difference. "Actually," he said, "I want to talk. There are things I want you to know." 

The angel still hung around the door, watching him uncertainly. He was strangely relieved to realise that the uneasy behaviour was not awakening suspicion, but sympathy in him. "Come over here." he said, "Sit." He indicated the end of the bed.

Cas kept close to the wall on the way, but he walked to the foot of the bed and sat down. "At any time, if you feel uncomfortable ... " he said.

"Yeah, great." said Dean. It was making him uncomfortable already, but not because he felt threatened. It was the opposite. The very possibility that he might react that way was causing his friend distress. 

He knew he needed to say something, but he also knew he was the last person who might hit upon the right thing to say and the first five choices that came to mind would only have made things worse.

"Sam and I think you should have these back." said Cas, offering him his angel blade and a handful of angel-killing bullets.

"Probably a bad idea." said Dean.

"I always think, if any two of us are in agreement, we're probably right." said Cas.

Dean took them from him and put them on the nightstand. "Hell of an act of faith." he said.

"You once handed me the First Blade, with the Mark of Cain arguing against it." said Cas, "I have reason to trust you."

"I gave them to Sam to protect you."

"Yes. I appreciate that." said Cas.

"And I'm only taking them back now because I don't want them." Their eyes met and the smallest hint of a smile appeared on Cas's lips. "I mean, I feel no need of them at all. Whatever hostility I felt toward you is gone. I feel I am no longer a threat to you."

"I feel the same way." said Cas.

"But I could be wrong. I could relapse. You're taking a risk."

"That you see it that way suggests I'm not." said Cas.

Dean was silent for a while, trying to decide what to say and how to explain that all he really wanted to do was bury his head under the covers and let the world go on without him until he could face it again. He was talking to someone who had endured far worse than he had and had not been such a coward. He was ashamed, but Cas understood shame, even if cowardice had no part in his life.

"I've told Sam I need to stay in here for a while." he said.

"He told me."

"He's okay with it."

"I'm not sure I am, because I think you need us more than ever."

"I do." Dean admitted.

"But Sam thinks you need to be alone and apparently, you'll still let him be around and I know that I can't help you anyway."

"You are helping me. Your patience, your understanding ... "

"Dean," said Cas suddenly, "The thought of you in here, running the same stupid thoughts through your stupid head ... "

"I know. It's not ideal." said Dean, surprised that the word stupid had not stirred up any anger.

"Not ideal? You intend to sentence yourself to solitary confinement in an echo chamber of self-blame."

Dean leant towards him and said quietly, "When I think of going out there, I break into a cold sweat. Out there are the people whose lives I put in danger by saying yes to Michael, people who may still die because of me. And if Jules were one of them, you would never forgive me."

"I will never forgive Michael for what Michael has done."

"Through me." said Dean.

"To you and to all of us." said Cas.

"It's weak and pathetic to hide, I know and you're not a coward ... " 

That was met with a bitter laugh.

"You never ran from anything but love." said Dean.

"When have you ever run?"

"Right now. And whatever you say, you think I'm weak."

"Dean, I would personally make you a private cave to hide in for as long as you needed to, if you weren't planning to be in there with the one judge who will always condemn you."

"I've always been too easy on myself."

"Even you don't believe that." said Cas.

"I've made excuses for myself every step of the way."

"'I'm weak, I'm stupid and I'm a coward.' are not excuses. The only thing they have in common with excuses are that they are lies. You lie, Dean, constantly and heartlessly bearing false witness against yourself."

"How many times since I got back have I hurt you with my words or actions?"

"That doesn't matter."

"That's all that matters. I hurt the people I should be protecting."

"One more than all the others." said Cas.

"I know. You would have every excuse if you chose to hate me."

"What's your excuse for hating yourself?"

"I've met me."

Their eyes met again and this time, both grinned. "You're an idiot." said Cas.

"It's what I've been trying to tell you."

"I don't want yours to be the only voice in your head." said Cas, then he swiftly added, "I'm not talking about the mind link, I just mean ... "

"You mean you want to argue with me when I say things you think are unfair about myself."

"Exactly. But you're determined to shut yourself away in here."

"Not for long. I made Sam promise to drag me out when he feels I've wallowed too much." He looked at Cas for a long time and then said, "We can talk by text."

"We can, but we won't. You never tell anyone what's going through your head."

"That's not fair. I'm doin' better, these days. I'm doin' okay."

"You were, until Michael drove a truck through your psyche." said Cas.

"I can't help that, Cas." said Dean and that felt like an excuse too.

Cas put a hand on his shoulder, an instinctive act. Instantly, they both froze. Cas recovered first and withdrew the hand. "I'm sorry." he said, "That was stupid."

Dean shook his head, momentarily unable to speak. Cas was expecting him to lash out or back off and he would have expected that too, but instead, he wished the hand had not gone. The moment of connection had made him feel the same warmth, the same feeling of finally not being alone, that the mind link had given him and the reminder of the mind link had not been repellent, but nostalgic.

"It's okay." he said at last, "I'm okay with it. I'm just amazed that after all I put you through ... "

"Shut up, Dean. You saved me more than once. Nothing will ever make me your enemy, not Michael, not Lucifer, not all the hosts of Heaven. I have never betrayed Heaven ... "

"I know. Even Chuck has never cared for Heaven as you do."

"But I would break it, destroy it, grind it to dust for you. I will always choose you over all of them, because a thousand angels will never be worth what you are."

"You need to find a better saviour." said Dean, awed and frightened by the intensity of Castiel's devotion. He was not worthy ... could never be worthy.

"That's my point. There is no better saviour."

"I'm a mess, Cas and likely to remain one for some time. So I need to cower in here, just until I find the strength not to or that brother of ours loses patience and pulls me out."

"I don't like it, but Sam's right, we have to let you decide what you need, even if it seems really, really dumb and might make things a whole lot worse."

"I promise, I'll text. May even call. And I'll be honest, if I can. I may even call you in here to talk. It's not you I'm running from and I want to make that crystal clear. I can't say for sure that Ive conquered the hatred and suspicion Michael stirred up, but at this precise moment, I don't feel any of it."

"That's wonderful." said Cas.

"I give you my solemn promise, we will get through this and I mean all of it. We'll get back to the way we were. One day ... I don't know when, but one day, we will get the mind link back."

"You don't have to promise that, Dean."

"Yes I do. I want it back. I want us back. There will be a day when I am not a basket case and Michael is dead or caged forever and you and Sam can show me your damn castle and we can show Sam Bobby's place."

"Sounds good." said Cas.

"And then we'll focus on you and Jules and the fact that you still haven't cracked the case."

"What case?"

Dean laughed. "Sex, Cas. You're gonna have sex. Then, when you and Jules are over your issues ... "

"We don't have issues. It's a matter of timing."

"Whatever. Then we find someone for Sam. Has to be someone in the life. Even if we could protect a civilian, some faceless somebody would never work for him. He needs an equal."

"What about you?"

"Wash your mind out! We're brothers!" said Dean, smiling.

"I meant, where is your happy ending? We have to find you someone, don't we?"

"Nah. It's too late for that. Too old ... "

"I'm older, by aeons."

"Too selfish ... "

"No."

"Too set in my ways. Besides, the super hunter is for Sam. There won't be two like that in the world and I'm not settling for less than he gets. My happiness will be seeing you two happy and getting to babysit Sam's kids and teach them bad habits. That sounds like a pretty good life to me."

Cas nodded. "It certainly sounds better than the ending you used to think you'd get."

"Yeah, I am all kinds of positive today. Kinda makes me wonder why you need to worry about me."

"Habit, inclination, affection and experience." said Cas.

"Yeah, you have me on all of those. But it'll be okay. I promise. Today, I am weak and hiding. It could be tomorrow that I snap out of this and ... "

"You don't need to snap out of anything. Stop talking like you're just indulging some ... "

"Cas, you can't spin this as anything but cowardice."

"I will never call it that. You shouldn't either." said Cas.

"Thanks for always defending me."

"You can repay me by listening." said Cas.

"I'm trying. Now, if you need anything from me, tell Sam or text me. Keep an eye on Jack. He's worrying me a little. He says he's fine, but we all say we're fine. He's not a natural liar, but he is a natural Winchester. Keep him safe." He smiled. "I don't really need to tell you that, do I? You'll always take care of the kid. Take care of Sam, too. He acts like he's fireproof, but he's fragile. I told him to go see Sarah."

"He's not going anywhere until you're okay." said Cas.

"No, that's what I figured, so just be there, if he needs a friend."

"I will."

"We'll all get through this." said Dean.

Cas nodded.

"And you and Jules are definitely okay?"

"Yes."

"If, while I'm out of action, the opportunity arises ... "

"Focus on your recovery, not my sex life."

"Your sex life is probably more interesting and if it isn't, it damn well should be. Stop playing it safe and commit!"

Cas smiled. "I am as committed as it is possible to be. Sex isn't everything."

"No, it isn't. Just be happy, however you define that. You deserve happiness."

"So do you. I want you to call me if your thoughts get too negative. Don't just sit here, making up reasons to hate yourself."

"I'm not surrendering. I just need a break from battle." said Dean.

"I understand that feeling well. Take your break, but remember, you're never without allies."

"Thanks, Cas. I never needed them more."

_The End._

_Next story: Empty Promises._


End file.
